The Unconscious Mummers =: (Les Comediens Sans Le Savoir) and Other Stories

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H. DE BALZAC

COMEDIE HUMAINE

EDITION DE GRAND LUXE.

(OKKJINAL 1'LATE.M.)

Of this edition loo copies only have been printed,
of which this is No/.<.lJ

i

H. DE BALZAC
THE

{IjCS Conlidims sani h imt^if)
AND OTHER STORIES

ELLEN MARRIAGE

wit* a Pf/j;t b)

GEORGE SAINTSBURY

PHILADELPHIA : THE GEBBlE PlHLI?HIN(i CO., LTD.
MDCCCXCViJ

Edinburgh : T and A. Constablb, Printers to Her Ma|eaty

CONTENTS

PAGB

PREPUCE ix

THE UNCONSCIOUS MUMMERS i

ji PRINCE OF BOHEMIA 71

jS MAN OF BUSINESS . . . . . .113

GAUDISSART U. 136

THE FIRM OF NUCINGEN 149

FACINO CANE %%%

LIST OF ETCHINGS

FIFTEEN MINUTES LATER, MMB. NOURRISSON ACTUALLY

APPEARED AT BIXIOu's ROOMS (p. 22) . • Front'np'uce

PAGB
' THERE, CHILD ! ' HE SAID, * I WILL DO SOMETHING FOR

YOU ; I WILL PUT YOU IN MY WILL ' . . Ill

*IF EVER I LONGED TO KILL A MAN ... IT WAS AT

THAT MOMENT* 1 35

ISAURE WOULD PUT HER LITTLE FOOT ON A CHAIR . 1 95

HERE HE SAT DOWN ON A STONE • . • . 24O

Drawn and Etched by W* Boucher .

PREFACE

A Prince of Bohemia^ the first of the short stories which
Balzac originally chose as make-weights to associate
with the long drama of Splendeurs et Miser es des Cour tisanes j
is one of the few things that, both in whole and in part,
one would very much rather he had not written. Its
dedication to Heine only brings out its shortcomings. For
Heine, though he could certainly be as spiteful and
unjust as Balzac here shows himself, never feiled to
carry the laugh on his side. You may wish him, in his
lampoons, better morals and better taste, but you can
seldom wish him better literature. Had he made this
attack on Sainte-Beuve, we should certainly not have
yawned over it ; and it is rather amusing to think of
the sardonic smile with which the dedicatee must have
read Balzac's comfortable assurance that he, Heinrich
Heine, would understand the plaisanterie and the
critique which Un Prince de la Boheme contains. Heine
* understood ' most things ; but if understanding, as is
probable, here includes sympathetic enjoyment, we may
doubt.

It was written at the same time, or very nearly so, as
the more serious attack on Sainte-Beuve in August 1840,
and, like that, appeared in Balzac's own Revue Parisiennej
though it was somewhat later. The thread, such as

b

X Preface

there is, of interest is twofold — the description of the
Bohemian grand seigneur Rusticoli or La Palferine, and
the would-be satire on Sainte-Beuve. It is difficult to say
which is least well done. Both required an exceedingly
light hand, and Balzac's hand was at no time light.
Moreover, in the sketch of La Palferine he commits the
error — nearly as great in a book as on the stage, where I
am told it is absolutely htaA — of delineating his hero with
a sort of sneaking kindness which is neither dramatic
impartiality nor satiric raillery. La Palferine as por-
trayed is a * raflF,' with a touch of no aristocratic quality
except insolence. He might have been depicted with
cynically concealed savagery, as Swift would have done
it ; with humorous ridicule, as Gautier or Charles de
Bernard would have done it; but there was hardly a third
way. As it is, the sneaking kindness above referred
to is one of the weapons in the hands of those who—
unjustly if it be done without a great deal of limitation
— contend that Balzac's ideal of a gentleman was low,
and that he had a touch of snobbish admiration for mere
insolence.

Here, however, it is possible for a good-natured
critic to put in the apology that the artist has tried
something unto which he was not born, and £uling
therein, has apparently committed faults greater than
his real ones. This kindness is impossible in the case of
the parodies, which are no parodies, of Sainte-Beuve.
From the strictly literary point of view, it is disastrous
to give as a parody of a man's work, with an intention of
casting ridicule thereon, something which is not in the
least like that work, and which in consequence only casts
ridicule on its author. To the criticism which takes in

Preface

XI

life as well as literature, it is a disaster to get in childish
rages with people because they do not think your work
so good as you think it yourself. And it is not known
that Balzac had to complain of Sainte-Beuve in any
other way than this, though he no doubt read into what
Sainte-Beuve wrote a great deal more than Sainte-Beuve
did say. There is a story (I think unpublished) that a
certain very great English poet of our times once met
an excellent critic who was his old friend (they are both

dead now). * What do you mean by calling vulgar ? *

growled the poet. — *I didn't call it vulgar,* said the
critic. — ^ No ; but you meant it,' rejoioed the bard. On
this system of interpretation it is of course possible to
accumulate crimes with great rapidity on a censor's
head. But it cannot be said to be itself a critical or
rational proceeding. And it must be said that if an
author does reply, against the advice of Bacon and all
wise people, he should reply by something better than
the spluttering abuse of the Revue Parisienne article or
the inept and irrelevant parody of this story.

Un Homnu d* Affaires^ relieved of this unlucky weight,
is better, but it also, in the eyes of some readers, does
not stand very high. La Palferine reappears, and that
more exalted La Palferine Maxime de Trailles, * Balzac's
pet scoundrel,' as some one has called him, though not
present, is the hero of the tale, which is artificial and
slight enough.

Gaudissart IL and Les Comediens sans le savolr are
much better. The first, of course, is very slight, and
the * Anglaise ' is not much more like a human being
than most 'Anglaises' in French novels till quite recently.
But the anecdote is amusing enough, and it is well and

xii Preface

smartly told. The longer and much more important
story which follows seems to me one of the best and
most amusing of what may be called (though it might
also be called by a dozen other names) the Bixiou cycle
of stories, in which journalism, art, provincials in Paris,
young persons of the other sex with more beauty than
morals, and so forth, play a somewhat artificial but often
amusing series of scenes and characters. In this par-
ticular division of the series the satire is happy, the
adventures are agreeably jfrabian^Nightish with a modern
adjustment, the central figure of the Southern Gazonal
is good in itself, and an excellent rallying-point for the
others, and the good-natured mystification played oflF on
him is a pleasant dream. I think, indeed, that there is
little doubt that the late Mr. Stevenson took his idea of
New Arabian Nights from Balzac, of whom he was an
unwearied student, and I do not know that Balzac him-
self was ever happier in his * Parisian Nights,' as we may
call them, than here. The artists and the actresses, the
corn-cutters and the fortune-tellers, the politicians, the
money-lenders, the furnishers of garments, and all the
rest, appear and disappear in an easy phantasmagoric
fashion which Balzac's expression does not always
achieve except when his imagination is at a white heat
not easily excited by such slight matter as this. The
way in which the excellent Gazonal is forced to recognise
the majesty of the capital may not be in exact accordance
with the views of the grave and precise, but it is a
pleasant fairy tale, and there is nothing so good as a
fairy tale.

Of two other stories which have been included in
this volume for reasons of mechanical convenience. La

Preface xiii

Maison Nuctngen has additional interests of various kinds.
The story of Madame Surville, and the notary, and his
testimony to Balzac's competence in bankruptcy matters,
have been referred to in the General Introduction. La
Maison Nuctngen is scarcely less an example of this
than Cesar Birotteau. It is also a curious study of
Parisian business generally, showing the intense and
extraordinary interest which Balzac took in anything
speculative. Evil tongues at the time identified Nucin-
gen with the first Rothschild of the Paris branch, but
the resemblances are of the most general and distant
kind. Indeed, it may be said that Balzac, to his infinite
honour both in character and genius, seldom indulged in
the clumsy lugging in of real persons by head and
shoulders which has come into fashion since his time,
especially in France. Even where there are certain
resemblances, as in Henri de Marsay to Charles de
Remusat, in Rastignac to Thiers, in Lousteau to Jules
Janin, and elsewhere, the borrowed traits are so blended
and disguised with others, and the whole so melted
down and reformed by art, that not merely could no
legitimate anger be aroused by them, but the artist
could not be accused of having in any way exceeded
his rights as an artist and his duty as a gentleman.
If he has ever stepped out of these wise and decent
limits, the transgression is very rare, and certainly Nu-
cingen is not an example of it. For the rest, the story
itself is perhaps more clever and curious than exactly
interesting.

Facino Cane did not originally rank in the Parisian
Scenes at all, but was a Conte Phihsophtque. It is
slight and rather fanciful, the chief interest lying in

XIV Preface

Balzac's unfailing fellow-feeling for all those who dream
of millions, as he himself did all his life long, only to
exemplify the moral of his own Ptau de Chagrin.

Un Prince de la Boheme^ in its Revue Parisienne
appearance, bore the title of Les Fantaisies de Claudine^
but when, four years later, it followed Honorine in book-
form, it took the present label. The Comedie received
it two years later. Gaudissart II. was written for a
miscellany called Le Diable a Paris ; but as this delayed
its appearance, it was first inserted in the Presse for
October 12, 1844, under a slightly different title, which
it kept in the Diable. Almost immediately, however,
it joined the Comedie under its actual heading. Un
Homme d* Affaires appeared in the SiecU for September 10,
1845, and was dien called Z/x Roueries d*un Creancier^
It entered the Comedie almost at once, but made an
^cursion therefrom to join, in 1847, ^^ menent les
mauvais chemins and others as Un Drame dans les Prisons.
Les Comediens sans le savoir appeared in the Courrier
Franfais during April 1846, and also went pretty
straight into the Comedie. But in 1848 it did outpost-
duty with some other short stories as Le Provincial a
Paris. There are some interesting minor details as its
variants which must be sought in M. de Lovenjoul.

La Maison Nucingen (which the author also thought
of calling La Haute Banque) originally appeared with
La Femme Superieure {Les Employes) and that part of
Splendeurs et AUseres entitled La Torpille^ in October
1838, published by Werdet in two volumes. Six years
later it took rank as a Scene de la Vie Parisienne in
the first edition of the Comedie.

Before this appearance, Les Employes had appeared

Preface xv

in the Presse. Facino Cane is Btirly contemporary

with these, having first seen the light in the Chroniqui

de Paris of March 17, 1836. Next year it became

an Etude Philosophtque. It had another grouped

appearance (with La Muse du Departement and Albert

Savarus) in 1843, ^^^ entered the Comidii the year

after.

G.S.

THE UNCONSCIOUS MUMMERS

To M. le Comte Jules de Castellane.

Leon de Lora, the famous French landscape painter,
belongs to one of the noblest &milies of Roussillon.
The Loras came originally from Spain ; and while they
are distinguished for their ancient lineage, for the last
century they have faithfully kept up the traditions of the
hidalgo's proverbial poverty. Leon himself came up to
Paris on foot from his department of the Pyrenees-
Orientales with the sum of eleven francs in his pocket
for all viaticum ; and in some sort forgot the hardships of
childhood and the poverty at home in the later hard-
ships which a young dauber never lacks when his whole
fortune consists in an intrepid vocation. Afterwards
the absorbing cares brought by fame and success still
further helped him to forget.

If you have followed the tortuous and capricious
course of these Studies, you may perhaps recollect one
of the heroes of Un Debut dans la Vie^ Schinner's pupil,
Mistigris, who reappears from time to time in various
Scenes.

You would not recognise the frisky penniless dauber
in the landscape painter of 1845, ^^^ ^^^^ ^^ Hobbema,
Ruysdael, and Claude Lorrain. Lora is a great man.
He lives near his old master Hippolyte Schinner in a
charming house (his own property) in the Rue de
Berlin, not very far from the Hotel de Brambourg,
where his friend Bridau lives. He is a member of the

2 The Unconscious Mummers

Institut and an officer of the Legion of Honour, he has
twenty thousand francs a year, his work fetches its
weight in gold ; and, fact even more extraordinary (as
he thinks) than the invitations to court balls which he
sometimes receives — the fame of a name published abroad
over Europe by the press for the last sixteen years at
length reached the valley in the Pyrenees-Orientales,
where three Loras of the old stock were vegetating — to
wit, his elder brother, his fiither, and a paternal aunt.
Mile. Urraca y Lora.

On the mother's side no relatives remained to the
painter save a cousin, aged fifty, living in a little manu-
facturing town in the department, but that cousin was
the first to remember Leon. So hr back as 1840 Leon
de Lora received a letter from M. Sylvestre Palafox-
Castel-Gazonal (usually known as plain Gazonal), to
which letter Lora replied that he really was himself —
that is to say, that he really was the son of the late
Leonie Gazonal, wife of Comte Fernand Didas y Lora.

Upon this, in the summer of 1841, Cousin Sylvestre
Gazonal went to apprise the illustrious but obscure house
of Lora of the &ct that young Leon had not sailed for
the River Plate, nor was he dead, as they supposed ; but
he was one of the finest geniuses of the modern French
school — which they refused to believe. The elder
brother, Don Juan de Lora, told his cousin Gazonal that
he, Gazonal, had been hoaxed by some Parisian wag.

Time went on, and the said Gazonal found himself
involved in a lawsuit, which the prefect of the Pyrenees-
Orientales summarily stopped on a question of disputed
jurisdiction and transferred to the Council of State.
Gazonal proposed to himself to go to Paris to watch his
case, and at the same time to clear up this matter, and to
call the Parisian painter to account for his impertinence.
To this end, M. Gazonal sallied forth from his furnished
lodgings in the Rue Croix des Petits Champs, and was
astonished at the sight of the palace in the Rue de

The Unconscious Mummers 3

Berlin ; and, learning on inquiry that its owner was
travelling in Italy, renounced for the time being the
intention of asking him for satisfaction. His mind mis-
gave him whether the great man would consent to own
his mother's nephew.

Through 1843 ^"^ ^^44 Gazonal followed the for-
tunes of his lawsuit.^ The local authorities, supported
by the riparian owners, proposed to remove a weir on
the river. The very existence of Gazonal's factory was
threatened. In 1845 he looked on the case as lost
beyond hope. The secretary of the Master of Requests,
who drew up the report, told him in confidence that it
was un&vourable to his claims, and his own barrister
confirmed the news. Gazonal, at home a commandant
of the National Guard, and as shrewd a manufacturer as
you would find in his department, in Paris felt so utterly
insignificant, and found the cost of living so high, that
he kept close in his shabby lodging.

The child of the Souto, deprived of the sun, poured
maledictions upon Paris, that ' rheumatism factory,' as
he called it; and when he came to reckon up the
expenses of his stay, vowed to himself to poison the
prefect or to * minotaurise ' him on his return. In
gloomier moments he slew the prefect outright ; then he
cheered up a little, and contented himself with 'rnino-
taurising ' the culprit.

One morning after breakfast, inwardly storming, he
snatched the newspaper up savagely, and the following
lines caught his eye at the end of a paragraph : * Our
great landscape painter, Leon de Lora, returned from
Italy a month ago. He is sending a good deal of his
work to the Salon this year, so we may look forward to
a very brilliant exhibition * The words rang in Gazo-
nal's ears like the inner voice which tells the gambler that
he will win. With Southern impetuosity, Gazonal
dashed out of the house, hailed a cab, and went to his
cousin's house in the Rue de Berlin.

The Unconscious Mummers

« ^NUt ^ Lcm happened to be engaged at the moment,
^1%; hr i<<Kt a message asking his relative to breakfast
^»lfV "htm next day at the Cafe de Paris. Gazonal, like
i Minr. ^ tlie South, poured out his woes to the valet.

\^^\^ nKvning, overdressed for the occasion in a coat
^ ^viMjHCvKkle blue, with gilt buttons, a frilled shirt,
v«kiy4 W waUtcoat, and veliow kid gloves, Gazonal fidgeted
t^^ Wht Jown the boulevard for an hour and a half, after
>«H^.^Mti$ from the cafetier (so provincials call the pro-
l^ijtHvt ^ a cafe) that gentlemen usually breakfasted
t)«K«t«n eleven and twelve.

^ v\hout half-past eleven,* so he used to tell the story
,i^t^ wards to everybody at home, 'two Parisians in
^n turtouts, looking like nobodies, came along the
|>i^levmrd, and cried out as soon as they saw me, '^ Here
v\MUti your Gazonal ! "*

l^he second comer was Bixiou, brought on purpose to
^ viraw out ' Leon's cousin.

^ And then,' he would continue, ' young Leon
t^ugged me in his arms and cried, '^ Do not be cross,
dtar cousin ; I am very much yours." — The break^t
was sumptuous. I rubbed my eyes when I saw so many
gold pieces put down on the bill. These fellows must
be making their weight in gold, for my cousin gave the
waiter thirty sols — a whole day's wages ! '

Over that monster breakfot, in the course of which
they consumed six dozen Ostend oysters, half a dozen
cutlets a la Soubise, a chicken a la Marengo, a lobster
mayonaise, mushrooms on toast, and green peas, to say
nothing of hors cTawreSy washed down with three bottles
of bordeaux, three of champagne, several cups of cofFee
and liqueurs, Gazonal launched forth into magnificent
invective on the subject of Paris. The noble manufac-
turer complained of the length of the four-pound loaves,
of the height of the houses, of the callous indifference
towards each other displayed by the passers-by, of the
cold, of the rain, of the fares charged by the ' demi-

The Unconscious Mummers 5

fiacres ' — and all so amusingly, that the pair of artists
warmed towards him and asked for the story of his law-
suit.

*The histor-r-ry of my lawsuit,' said he, rolling his
r*s and accentuating every word in Provencal fashion,
*the histor-r-ry of my lawsuit is quite simple. They
want my factory. I find a fool of a barrister, I give
him twenty francs every time to keep his eyes open, and
always find him &st asleep. He is a shell-less snail that
rolls about in a carriage while I go on foot. They
have swindled me shamefully ; I do nothing but go from
one to another, and I see that I ought to have gone in a
carriage. They will not look at you here unless you
hide yourself out of sight in a carriage. On the other
hand, in the Council of State they are a pack of do-
nothings that leave a set of little rascals in our prefect's
pay to do their work for them. . . • That is the history
of my lawsuit. They want my factory ! J? be they
will get it. . . . And they can fight it out with my
workpeople, a hundred strong, that will give them a
cudgelling which will make them change their
minds '

* Come now, cousin, how long have you been here ? *
inquired the landscape painter.

*For two whole years. Oh that prefect and his
"disputed jurisdiction," he shall pay dear for it ; I will
have his life, and give mine for it at the Assize
Court '

* Which Councillor is chairman of your committee ? '
*An ex-journalist, not worth ten sols^ though they

call him Massol.'

Lora and Bixiou exchanged glances.

* And the commissioner ? *

* Funnier still! It is a Master of Requests, a pro-
fessor of something or other at the Sorbonne ; he used
to write for some review. I p-r-rofess the deepest dis-
respect for him-—*

6 The Unconscious Mummers

* Claude VIgnon ? ' suggested Bixiou.

* That is the name — £bssol and Vignon, that is the
style of the unstable firm of bandits {Trestaillons) in
league with my prefect.'

' There is hope for it yet,' said Leon de Lora. * You
can do anything, you see, in Paris, cousin — ^anything,
good or bad, just or unjust. Anything can be done or
undone, or done over again here.*

* I will be hanged if I will stop in it for another ten
seconds ; it is the dullest place in France.'

As he spoke, the three were pacing up and down that
stretch of asphalt on which you can scarcely walk of
an afternoon without meeting somebody whose name
has been proclaimed from Fame's trumpet, for good
or ill. The ground shifts. Once it used to be the
Place Royale, then the Pont Neuf possessed a privilege
transferred in our day to the Boulevard des Italiens.

The landscape painter held forth for his cousin's bene-
fit. * Paris,' said he, *is an instrument which a man
must learn to play. If we stop here for ten minutes,
I will give you a lesson. There ! look,' he continued,
raising his cane to point out a couple that issued from
the Passage de I'Opera.

* What is it ? ' inquired Gazonal.

* It * was an elderly woman dressed in a very showy
gown, a faded tartan shawl, and a bonnet that had spent
six months in a shop window. Her fiice told of a
twenty years' residence in a damp porter's lodge, and her
bulging market-basket showed no less clearly that the
ex-portress had not improved her social position. By
her side walked a slim and slender damsel. Her eyes,
shaded with dark lashes, had lost their expression of
innocence, her complexion was spoiled with overwork,
but her features were prettily cut, her face was fresh,
her hair looked thick, her brows pert and engaging, her
figure lacked fulness — in two words, it was a green
apple.

The Unconscious Mummers 7

* It,* answered Bixiou, ' is a " rat *' equipped with her
mother.'

* A r-r-rat ? ^esaco f '

Leon favoured Mile. Ninette with a little friendly
nod.

*The **rat" may win your lawsuit for you,* he said.
Gazonal started, but Bixiou had him by the arm. It
had struck him as they left the cafe that the Southern
countenance was a trifle flushed.

'The rat has just come from a rehearsal at the
Opera. It is on its way home to its scanty dinner. In
three hours' time it will come back to dress, if it comes
on this evening in the ballet, that is, for to-day is
Monday. The rat has reached the age of thirteen ; it is
an old rat already. In two years' time the creature's
market-price will be sixty thousand francs ; she will be
everything or nothing, a great dancer or a super, she
will have a name in the world or she will be a common
prostitute. Her working life began at the age of eight.
Such as you see her to-day she is exhausted ; she over-
tired herself this morning at the dancing class ; she has
just come out of a rehearsal as full of head-splitting ins
and outs as a Chinese puzzle ; and she will come back
again to-night. The rat is one of the foundation stones
of the Opera ; the rat is to{the leading lady of the ballet
as the little clerk is to the notary. The rat is Hope.'

* Who brings the rat into the world ? ' asked Gazonal.
^ Porters, poor folk, actors, and dancers,' said Bixiou.

* Nothing but the direst poverty could induce an eight-

{ rear-old child to bear such torture of feet and joints, to
ead a well-conducted life till she is sixteen or eighteen
years old (simply as a business speculation), and to keep
a hideous old woman always with her like stable-litter
about some choice plant. — You will see genius of every
kind go past — artists in the bud and artists run to seed —
all of them engaged in rearing that ephemeral monument
to the glory of France, called the Opera; a daily

H The Unconscious Mummers

r Olio wed combination of physical and mental strei^th,
will Hiid genius, found nowhere but in Paris.*

* 1 have already seen the Opera,' Gazonal remarked
with a self-sufficient air.

^ Yes, from your bench at three francs sixty centimes,
as you have seen Paris fix>m the Rue Croix des Petits
Champs — without knowing anything about it. What
did they give at the Opera when you went ? '

* miliam TeU:

^Good/ returned Leon, 'you must have enjoyed
Mathilde's great duet. Well, what do you suppose the
prima donna did as soon as she went off the stage ? '

i Did ?— What ? •

*• Sat down to two mutton cutlets, underdone, which
her servant had prepared for her *

«Ah! boujgfreV

^ Malibran kept herself up with brandy — it was that
that killed her. Now for something else. You have
seen the ballet ; now you have just seen the ballet go
past in plain morning dress, not knowing that your
lawsuit depends upon those feet ? '

* My lawsuit ? *

'There, cousin, there goes a marcheuse^ as she is
called.*

Leon pointed out one of the superb creatures that
have lived sixty years of life at five-and-twenty ; a
beauty so unquestioned, so certain to be sought, that she
keeps in the shade. She was tall, she walked well, with
a dandy's assured air, and her toilette was striking by
reason of its ruinous simplicity.

' That is Carabine,' said Bixiou, as he and the painter
nodded slightly, and Carabine answered with a smile.

' There goes another who can cashier your prefect.'

' A marcheuse is often a very handsome *' rat " sold by
her real or pretended mother so soon as it is certain
that she can neither rank as a first, nor second, nor
third-rate dancer; or else she prefers her calling of

The Unconscious Mummers 9

coryphee to any other, perhaps because she has spent her
youth in learning to dance and knows how to do nothing
else. She met no doubt with rebuffs at the minor
theatres 3 she cannot hope to succeed in the three
French cities which maintain a corps de ballety she has
no money, or no wish to go abroad, for you must know
that the great Paris school trains dancers for the rest of
the civilised world. If a rat becomes a marcheusey that
is to say, a figurante^ she must have had some weighty
reason for staying in Paris — some rich man whom she
did not love, that is to say, or a poor young fellow whom
she loved too well. The one that passed just now will
dress or undress three times in an evening as a princess,
a peasant-girl, a Tyrolese, and the like, and gets perhaps
two hundred francs a month.'

* She is better dressed than our pr-r-refect's wife.'

^ If you went to call on her, you would find a maid, a
cook, and a manservant in her splendid establishment in
the Rue Saint-Georges,' said Bixiou. ^ But, after all, as
modern incomes are to the revenues of the eighteenth
century noblesse, so is she to the eighteenth century
Opera girl, a mere wreck of former greatness. Carabine
is a power in the land. At this moment she rules du
Tillet, a banker with a good deal of influence in the
Chamber '

^And the higher ranks of the ballet, how about
them ? '

^ Look ! ' said Lora, pointing out an elegant carriage
which crossed the Boulevard and disappeared down the
Rue de la Grange-Bateliere, * there goes one of our
leading ladies of the ballet ; put her name on the placards,
and she will draw all Paris ; she is making sixty thousand
francs per annum, she lives like a princess. The price
of your factory would not buy you the right of wishing
her a good morning thirty times.'

^ Eh be! I can easily say it to myself; it will cost
less.'

10 The Unconscious Mummers

^Do you see that good-looking young man on the
front seat ? He is a yicomte bearing a great name, and
he is her first gentleman of the chamber ; he arranges
with the newspapers for her ; he carries peace or declares
war of a morning on the manager of the Opera ; or he
makes it his business to superintend the applause when
she comes on or off the stage.'

^ My good sirs, this beats everything ; I had not a
suspicion of Paris as it is,'

^ Oh well, at any rate you may as well find out what
may be seen in ten minutes in the Passage de I'Openu —
There ! ' exclaimed Bixiou.

Two persons, a man and a woman, came out as he
spoke. The woman was neither pretty nor plain;
there was a certain distinction that revealed the artist
in the fashion and colour of her gown. The man looked
rather like a minor canon.

^That is a double-bass and a second premier sujet^
continued Bixiou. ^The double-bass is a tremendous
genius; but the double-bass, being a mere accessory in
the score, scarcely makes as much as the dancer. The
second sujet made a great name before Taglioni and
Elssler appeared; she preserved the traditions of the
character dance among us ; she would have been in the
first rank to-day if the other two had not come to
reveal undreamed-of poetry in the dance ; as it is, she is
only in the second rank, and yet she draws her thirty
thousand francs, and has a faithful friend in a peer of
France with great influence in the Chamber. Look !
here comes the third-rate dancer, a dancer that owes her
(professional) existence to the omnipotent press. If her
engagement had not been renewed, the men in office
would have had one more enemy on their backs. The
corps de ballet is the great power at the Opera; for
which reason, in the upper ranks of dandyism and
politics, it is much better form to make a connection
among the dancers than among the singers. ^^Monsieur

The Unconscious Mummers ii

goes in for music/' is a kind of joke among the frequen-
ters of the Opera in the orchestra.'

A short, ordinary-looking, plainly-dressed man went
past.

* At last here comes the other half of the receipts —
the tenor. There is no poetry, no music, no acting
possible without a famous tenor that can take a certain
high note. The tenor means the element of love, a
voice that reaches the heart, that thrills the soul ; and
when this voice resolves itself into figures, it means a
larger income than a cabinet minister's. A hundred
thousand francs for a throat, a hundred thousand for a
pair of ankles — behold the two financial scourges of the
Opera.'

^ It fills me with amazement to see so many hundred
thousand francs walking about,' said Gazonal.

^ You will soon see a great deal more, dear cousin of
mine. Come with us. — We will take Paris as an artist
takes up the violoncello, and show you how to play the

freat instrument, show you how we amuse ourselves in
aris in fact.'

^ It is a kaleidoscope seven leagues round,' cried Gazonal.
^ Before we begin to pilot this gentleman, I must see
Gaillard,' began Bixiou.

^ And Gaillard may help us in the cousin's affairs.'

* What is the new scene ? '

^ It is not a scene, but a scene-shifter. Gaillard is a
friend of ours ; he has come at last to be the managing
director of a newspaper ; his character, like his cash-box,
is chiefly remarkable for its tidal ebb and flow. Gaillard
possibly may help to win your lawsuit.'

* It IS lost '

* Just the time to win it then ! ' returned Bixiou.
Arrived at Theodore Gaillard's house in the Rue de

Menars, the friends were informed by the footman that
his master was engaged. It was a private interview.

* With whom ? inquired Bixiou.

12 The Unconscious Mummers

^ With a man that is driving a bargain to imprison a
debtor that cannot be caught,' said a voice, and a very
handsome woman appeared in a dainty morning gown.

^ In that case, dear Suzanne, the rest of us may walk
in '

^ Oh ! what a lovely creature ! ' cried Gazonal.

^ That is Mme. Gaillard,' said Leon de Lora ; and,
lowering his voice for his cousin's ear, he added, ^ You
see before you, dear fellow, as modest a woman as you
will find in Paris ; she has retired from public life, and
is contented with one husband.'

^ What can I do for you, my lords ? ' said the facetious
managing director, imitating Frederick Lemaitre.

Theodore Gaillard had been a clever man ; but, as so
often happens in Paris, he had grown stupid with staying
too long in the same groove. The principal charm of
his conversation consisted in tags of quotation with which
it was garnished, bits from popular plays mouthed after
the manner of some well-known actor.

* We have come for a chat,' said Leon.

* Encore^ jeune home ! ' (Odry in Les Saltimbanques,)
^This time we shall have him for certain,' said

Gaillard's interlocutor by way of conclusion.

' Are you quite sure of that. Daddy Fromenteau ?
This is the eleventh time that we have had him fast at
night, and in the morning he was gone.'

' What can you do ? I never saw such a debtor.
He is like a locomotive, he goes to sleep in Paris and
wakes up in Seine-et-Oise. He is a puzzle for a lock-
smith/

Seeing Gaillard smile, he added, ^ That is how we
talk in our line. You "nab" a man, or you lock
him up; that means you arrest him. They talk
differently in the criminal police. Vidocq used to say
to his man, ** They have got it ready for you ! " which
was all the funnier because " it " meant the guillo-
tine.'

The Unconscious Mummers 13

Bixiou jogged Gazonal's elbow, and at once the
visitor became all eyes and ears. ^ Does monsieur give
palm oil ? ' continued Fromenteau, quite quietly, though
there was a perceptible shade of menace in the tone.

^ It is a matter of fifty centimes,' said Gaillard (a
reminiscence of Odry in Les Saltimbanques)^ as he handed
over five francs to Fromenteau.

^ And for the blackguards ? ' the man went on.

* Who are they ? '

* Those in my employ/ Fromenteau replied imper-
turbably.

* Is there any one lower yet ? ' asked Bixiou.

*Oh yes, sir,' the detective replied. 'There are
some that give us information unconsciously and get
no pay for it. I put flats and noodles lower than
blackguards.'

^The blackguards are often very good-looking and
clever,' exclaimed Leon.

^ Then do you belong to the police ? ' asked Gazonal,
uneasily and curiously eyeing this little wizened, impas-
sive person, dressed like a solicitor's under clerk.

* Which kind do you mean ? ' returned Fromenteau.

* Are there several kinds ? '

^ As many as five,' said Fromenteau. ' There is the
Criminal Department (Vidocq used to be at the head of
it) ; the Secret Superintendence (no one knows the chief) ;
the Political Department (Fouche's own) ; and the
Chateau, the system directly in the employ of the
Emperor and Louis xviii., and so on. The Chateau
was always squabbling with the other department at the
Quai Malaquais. That came to an end with M.
Decazes. I used to belong to Louis xviii. ; I have
been in the force ever since 1793 along with poor
Contenson.'

The listeners looked at one another, each with one
thought in their minds — * How many men's heads has
he cut off?'

14 The Unconscious Mumrtiers

^ And now they want to do without us — tomfoolery ! '
added the little man that had grown so terrific all on a
sudden. ^ Since 1830 they will only employ respectable
people at the prefecture ; I sent in my resignation, and
learned my little knack of nabbing prisoners for debt.'

^ He is the right hand of the commercial police/ said
Gaillard, lowering his voice for Bixiou ; ^ but you can
never tell whether debtor or creditor pays him most.'

*The dirtier the business, the more need for strict
honesty/ said Fromenteau sententiously ; *I am for
those that pay best. You want to recover fifty thou-
sand francs, and you higgle over &rthings* Give me
five hundred francs, and to-morrow morning we will
have him in quod.'

* Five hundred francs for you yourself ! ' cried Theo-
dore Gaillard.

^ ^^ Lisette wants a shawl," ' answered the detective
without moving a muscle of his countenance. * I call
her " Lisette " because of Beranger.'

^ You have a Lisette, and still you stay in your line ! '
cried the virtuous Gazonal.

^ It is so amusing. Talk of field sports ; it is for more
interesting to run a man to earth in Paris ! '

^ They must be uncommonly clever to do it, and that
is a fact,' said Gazonal, thinking aloud.

^ Oh, if I were to reckon up all the qualities that a man
needs if he is to make his mark in our line, you would
think I was describing a man of genius,' replied Fromen-
teau, taking Gazonal's measure at a glance. ^You
must be lynx-eyed, must you not? Bold — for you
must drop into a house like a bombshell, walk up to
people as if you had known them all your life, and
propose the never-refused dirty business, and so on. —
You must have Memory, Sagacity, Invention — for
you must be quick to think of expedients, and never
repeat yourself; espionage must always be moulded
on the individual character of those with whom you

The Unconscious Mummers 15

have to do— but invention is a gift of Heaven. Then
you need agility, strength, and so on. All these faculties,
gentlemen, are painted up over the door of Amoros's
Gymnasium as virtues. All these things we must
possess under penalty of forfeiting the salary of a
hundred francs per month paid us by the Government,
in the Rue de Jerusalem, or the commercial police.'

^And you appear to me to be a remarkable man,'
said Gazonal. Fromenteau looked at him, but he
neither answered nor showed any sign of feeling, and
went away without taking leave, an unmistakable sign
of genius.

^ Well, cousin, you have just seen the police incarnate,'
said Leon.

^ I have had quite as much as I want,' returned the
honest manu&cturer. Gaillard and Bixiou chatted
together meanwhile in an undertone.

^ I will send round an answer to-night to Carabine's,'
Gaillard said aloud; and sitting down to his desk, he
took no further notice of Gazonal.

^ Insolence ! ' fumed the child of the South on the
threshold.

^His paper has twenty-two thousand subscribers,'
said Leon de Lora. ^ He is one of the great powers of
the age ; he has not time to be polite of a morning.'

^ If go we must to the Chamber to arrange this law-
suit, let us take the longest way round,' said Leon.

* Great men's sayings are like silver gilt,' retorted
Bixiou ; ^ use wears the gilt off the silver, and all the
sparkle goes out of the sayings if they are repeated. But
where are we going ? '

* To see our hatter near by,' returned Leon.

* Bravo ! If we go on like this, we may perhaps have
some fun.'

* Gazonal,' began Leon, * I will draw him out for
your benefit. Only — you must look as solenm as a
king on a five-franc piece, for you are going to see gratis

1 6 The Unconscious Mummers

an uncommonly queer quiz ; the man's self-importance
has turned his head. In these days, my dear feUow.
everybody wants to cover himself with glory, and a ffooo
many cover themselves with ridicule, and hence we nave
entirely new living caricatures *

^ When everybody is glorious together, how is a man
to distinguish himself? ' asked Gazonal.

^Distinguish yourself?' repeated Bixiou — ^be a
noodle. Your cousin wears a ribbon; I am well
dressed, and people look at me, not at him.'

After this remark, which may perhaps explain why so
many orators and other great politicians never appear
in the streets with a ribbon in their button-holes, Leon
de Lora pointed out a name painted in gilt letters over
a shop front. It was the illustrious name of an author
of a pamphlet on hats, a person who pays newspaper
proprietors as much for advertisements as any three
vendors of sugar-plums or patent pills — Vital it ran
(late Finot), hat manufacturer, not plain hatter,
as heretofore,

Bixiou called Ga2x>nal's attention to the glories of
the shop window, ^ Vital, my dear boy, is making
forty thousand francs per annum.'

^ And he is still in business as a hatter ! ' exclaimed
Gazonal, nearly breaking Bixiou's arm with a violent
wrench.

^ You shall see the man directly,' added Leon ; ^ you
want a hat, you shall have one gratis.'

^Is M« Vital not in ?' asked Bixiou, seeing no one at
the desk.

^ Monsieur is correcting proofs in his private office,'
said the assistant.

^ What do you think of that, hey ? ' said Leon,
turning to his cousin. Then to the assistant, ^ Can we
speak to him without disturbing his inspirations ? '

^ Let the gentlemen come in,' called a voice — a bour-
geois voice, a voice to inspire confidence in voters, a

The Unconscious Mummers 17

powerful voice, suggestive of a good steady income, and
Vital vouchsafed to show himself. He was dressed in
black from head to foot, and carried a diamond pin in
his resplendent shirt-frill. Beyond him the three friends
caught a glimpse of a young and pretty woman sitting
at a desk with a piece of embroidery in her hands.

Vital was between thirty and forty years of age ;
native joviality had been repressed in him by ambi-
tions. It is the privilege of a fine organisation to be
neither tall nor short, and Vital enjoyed that advantage.
He was tolerably stout, and careful of his appearance ;
and if the hair had grown rather thin on his forehead, he
turned the partial baldness to account, to give himself
the airs of a man consumed by thought. You could see
by the way that his wife looked at him that she admired
her husband for a great man and a genius. Vital loved
artists. Not that he had himself any taste for the arts,
but he felt that he was one of the confraternity ; he
believed that he was an artist, and brought the fact home
to you by sedulously disclaiming all right to that noble
title, and constantly relegating himself to an enormous
distance from the arts to draw out the remark, ^ Why,
you have raised the manufacture of hats to the dignity
of a science.'

^ Have you found the hat for me at last ? ' inquired
Leon de Lora.

* What, sir, in one fortnight ! A hat for you ! '
remonstrated Vital. * Why, two months will scarcely
be long enough to strike out a shape to suit you !
Look, here is your lithograph, there it lies. I have
studied you very carefully already. I would not take so
much trouble for a prince, but you are something more,
you are an artist. And you understand me, my dear
sir.*

^ Here is one of our great inventors ; he would be as
great a man as Jacquart if he would but consent to die
for a bit,' said Bixiou, introducing Gazonal. ^Our

B

i8 The Unconscious Mummers

friend here is a cloth weaver, the inventor of a way of
restoring the indigo colour in old clothes ; he wanted to
sec you as a great phenomenon, for it was you who said,
*^ The hat is the man." It sent this gentleman into
ecstasies. Ah ! Vital, you have &ith ! You believe in
something ; you have a passion for your work ! '

Vital scarcely heard the words, his face had grown
pale with joy.

^ Rise, wife. This gentleman is one of the princes of
science ! '

Mme. Vital rose at a sign from her husband ; Gazonal
bowed.

' Shall I have the honour of finding a hat for you ? *
continued Vital, radiant and officious.

* At my price,' said Bixiou.

^ Quite so. I ask nothing but the pleasure of an
occasional mention from you, gentlemen. Monsieur
must have a picturesque hat, something in M. Lousteau's
style,' he continued, looking at Bixiou with the air of
one laying down the law. ^I will think of a shape.'

^ You take a great deal of trouble,' said Gazonal.

* Oh ! only for a few persons ; only for those who
can appreciate the value of the pains that I take. Why,
among the aristocracy there is but one man who really
understands a hat — the Prince de Bethune. How is it
that men do not see, as women do, that the hat is the
first thing to strike the eye ? Why do they not think
of changing the present state of things, which is dis-
graceful, it must be said. But a Frenchman, of all people,
is the most persistent in his folly. I quite know the
difficulties, gentlemen ! I am not speaking now of my
writings on a subject which I believe I have approached
in a philosophical spirit ; but simply as a practical hatter
I have discovered the means of individualising the
hideous headgear which Frenchmen are privileged to
wear until I can succeed in abolishing it altogether.'

He held up an example of the hideous modern hat.

The Unconscious Mummers 19

^ Behold the enemy, gentlemen. To think that the
most intelligent nation under the sun should consent to
put this " stove-pipe " (as one of our own writers has said),
this "stove-pipe" upon their heads! . . . Here you
see the various curves which I have introduced into
those dreadful lines,' he added, pointing out one of his
own ^ creations/ ^ Yet, although I understand how to
suit the hat to the wearer — as you see, for here is a
doctor's hat, this is for a tradesman, and that for a dandy
or an artist, a scout man, a thin man — still, the hat in itself
is always hideous. There ! do you fully grasp my whole
idea ? '

He took up a broad-brimmed hat with a low crown.

^ This is an old hat belonging to Claude Vignon, the
great critic, independent writer, and free liver. ... He
has gone to the support of the ministry, he is a professor
and librarian, he only writes for the Debats now, he has
gained the post of Master of Requests. He has an
income of sixteen thousand francs, he makes four thou-
sand francs by his journalistic work, he wears a ribbon at
his buttonhole. — Well, here is his new hat.'

Vital exhibited a head covering, the juste milieu
visible in every line.

^You ought to have made him a harlequin's hat,'
exclaimed C^zonal.

^Your genius rises over other people's heads, M.
Vital,' said Leon.

Vital bowed, unsuspicious of the joke.

^Can you tell me why your shops are the last of all to
close here in Paris ? They are open even later than the
cafes and drinking bars. It really tickles my curiosity,'
said Gazonal.

^In the first place, our windows look their best when
lighted up at night ; and for one hat that we sell in the
daytime, we sell five at night.'

^Everything is queer in Paris,' put in Leon.

^ Well^ in spite of my efforts and my success' (Vital

20 The Unconscious Mummers

pursued his panegirric), ^we must come to the round
crown. I am working in that direction/

^ What hinders you r ' asked Gazonal.

^Cheapness, sir. You start with a stock of fine silk
hats at fifteen francs — the price would kill the trade;
Parisians never have fifteen francs of ready money to
invest in a new hat. A beaver costs thirty francs, but the
problem is the same as ever. Beaver, I say, though there
are not ten pounds' weight of real beaver skins bought
in France in a year. The article is worth three hundred
and fifty francs per pound, and an ounce is needed for a
hat. And besides, the beaver hat is not good for much,
the skin dyes badly ; it turns rusty in the sunshine in
ten minutes, it subsides at once in the heat. What we
call " beaver " is really nothing but hare-skin ; the best
hats are made from the backs, the second quality from
the sides, and the third from the bellies. I am telling
you trade secrets, you are men of honour. But
whether you carry beaver or hare-skin on your head, the
problem is equally insoluble — how to find fifteen or
thirty francs of ready money. A man must pay cash
for his hat — you behold the consequences ! The honour
of the garb of Gaul will be saved when a round grey hat
shall cost a hundred francs. When that day comes we
shall give credit, like the tailors. To that end people
must be persuaded to wear the buckle, the gold galoon,
the plumes, and satin-lined brims of the times of
Louis XIII. and Louis xiv. Our business would expand
ten times over if we went into the fancy line. France
would be the hat-mart of the world, just as Paris always
sets the fashion in women's dress. The present hat
may be made anywhere. Ten million francs of export
trade to be secured for Paris is involved in the ques-
tion '

^ A revolution ! ' cried Bixiou, working up enthusiasm.

^Yes, a radical revolution. The form must be
remodelled.'

The Unconscious Mummers 21

'You are happy after Luther's fashion/ said Leon,
always on the lookout for a pun. ' You are dreaming
of a reformation.'

* Yes, sir. Ah ! if the twelve or fifteen artists,
capitalists, or dandies that set the fashion would but
have courage for twenty-four hours, there would be a
great commercial victory won for France. See here !
as I tell my wife, I would give my fortune to succeed.
Yes, it is my one ambition to regenerate the hat — and
to disappear.'

^ The man is stupendous,' remarked Gazonal, when
they had left the shop, ^ but all your eccentrics have a
touch of the South about them, I do assure you '

' Let us go along the Rue Saint- Marc,' said Bixiou.

* Are we to see something else ? '

* Yes, you are going to see a money-lender — a money-
lender among the ^^rats" and marcheuses. A woman
that has more hideous secrets in her keeping than gowns
in her shop window,' said Bixiou.

He pointed as he spoke to a dirty-looking shop like a
blot on the dazzling expanse of modern street. It had
last been painted somewhere about the year 1820, a
subsequent bankruptcy must have left it in a dubious
condition on the owner's hands, and now the colour was
obscured by a thick coating of grime and dust. The
windows were filthy, the doorhandle had that significant
trick of turning of its own accord, characteristic of every
place which people enter in a hurry, only to leave more
promptly still.

* What do you say to this ? Death's cousin-german,
is she not ? ' Leon muttered in Gazonal's ear, pointing
out a terrific figure behind the counter. ^She is Mme.
Nourrisson.'

^ How much for the guipure, madame ? ' asked
Gazonal, not to be behindhand.

*To you, monsieur, only a hundred crowns, as you
come from so far.' Then remarking a certain Southern

11 The Uficontdoai MttmiMfi

fUft (f( §uf pri§€^ ibe ftddcdi with « touch of ptlboi {fi bfr
voice, ^ It Dcloftged to the PriiiceHe de Liimbelli^ i^oor
tbifijt,'

^Whitf here! right under the Tuilerieff^ eifed
Bixfou.

* JMonw'euf, ** they *' don't believe it/ *«id *be.

^ We did not amtc here n% buyen^^ fflftdame/ Hixiou
be^^n valiantly.

*&o 1 M^, mon^eur/ retorted Mme. NourriMon.

^We have several thing* to ik;I1/ continued the
illuMriou» caricaturist. M live at number if 2 Rue de
Richelieu, *ixth fl/;or« If you like to look in, in n
moment, you may pick up a famouii bargai n ^

* Herhapft monsieur would like a bit of mu*lin | it i*
verr much worn ju»t now t * smiled she.

* No. It is a matter of a wedding-dress,* Lton de
Lora said with much j^nifhy,

Vifiten minutes biter, Mme. Nourrisson actually
appeared at Bixi/9U% rooms, tjion and OaMmal had
come home with him to see the end of the jest, and
Mme. Nourrisson found the trio looking as sober as
three auth/jrrs whose work (written in collaboration) has
not met with that success which it deserved.

Bixiou unblushinglv produced a pair of ladyV slippers.
* These, ma/lame, belonged to the Fympress Josephine,*
said he, giving Mme. Nourrisson, as in duty bound, tm
small change lor her Hrincesse de J/amballe.

* 'fhaif . . .' cried she. *Whv, it was new this
year ^ look at the mark on the s<ile.^

^Can you not guess that the pair of slippers is a
prelude to the romance,* said L^on ^ * and not^ as usual,
the sequel.*

'My friend here from the South,* put in Hiaiou,
' wishes to marry a certain young lady, yery welUto-do
and well connected ^ but he would like to know before-
hand (huge family interests being at stake) whether
there

^huge family interests being at
has been any slip in the past.^

The Unconscious Mummers 23

* How much is monsieur willing to pay ? ' she asked,
eyeing the prospective bridegroom,

^ A hundred francs/ said Gazonal, no longer astonished
at anything.

^Many thanks/ said she, with a grimace which a
monkey might despairingly envy.

*Come, now, how much do you want, Mme.
Nourrisson ? ' asked Bixiou, putting his arm round her
waist.

* First of all, my dear gentlemen, never since I have
been in business have I seen any one, man or woman,
beating down the price of happiness. And, in the
second place, you are all three of you chaffing me,' she
added, and a smile that stole over her hard lips was
reinforced by a gleam of cat-like suspicion in her eyes.
*Now, if your happiness is not involved, your fortune is
at stake, and a man that lives up so many pair of stairs is
still less the person to haggle over a rich match. —
Come, now, what is it aU about, my lambs ? ' with
sudden affability.

^ We want to know about the firm of Beimier and
Company,' said Bixiou, very well pleased to pick up
some information concerning a person in whom he was
interested.

* Oh ! a louis will be enough for that *

«Andwhv?'

^ I have aU the mother's jewels. She is hard up from
one quarter to another; why, it is all she can do to pay
interest on the money she owes me. Are you looking
for a wife in that quarter ? You noodle ! Hand me
over forty francs, and I will give you a good hundred
crowns' worth of gossip.'

Gazonal brought a forty-franc piece to light, and
Mme. Nourrisson gave them some startling stories of
the straits to which some so-called ladies are reduced.
The old wardrobe-dealer grew lively as she talked,
sketching her own portrait in the course of the conver-

24 The Unconscious Mummers

sation. Without betraying a single confidence, with-
out letting fall a single name, she made her audience
shudder by allowing them to see how much prosperity in
Paris is based on the quaking foundation of borrowed
money. In her drawers she had keepsakes set in gold
and brilliants, memorials of grandmothers long dead and
gone, of children still in life, of husbands or grand-
children laid in the grave. She had heard ghastly
stories wrung from anger, passion, or pique, told, it may
be, by one customer of another, or drawn from borrowers
in the necessary course of sedative treatment which ends
in a loan.

^Why did you enter this line of business?' asked
Gazonal.

^ For my son's sake,' she replied simply.

Women that go up and down back stairs to ply their
trade in are always brimful of excuses based on the best
of motives. Mme. Nourrisson, by her own account, had
lost three matches, three daughters that turned out very
badly, and all her illusions to ooot. She produced pawn-
tickets for some of her best goods, she said, just to show
the risks of the trade. How she should meet the end
of the month, she did not know ; people ^ robbed ' her
to such a degree.

The word was a little too strong. The artists
exchanged glances.

^ Look here, bovs, I will just show you how we get
taken in. This did not happen to me, but to my neigh-
bour over the way, Mme. Mahuchet,a ladies' shoemaker.
I had been lending money to a Countess, a woman with
more crazes than she can afford. She swaggers it with
a fine house and grand furniture; she has At Homes,
she makes a deuce of a dash.

^ Well, she owed her shoemaker three hundred francs,
and was giving a dinner and a party no further back than
the day before yesterday. Mme. Mahuchet, hearing of
this from the cook, came to me about it, and we got

The Unconscious Mummers 25

excited over the news. She was for making a fuss, but
for my own part — ** My dear Mother Mahuchct," I said,
'^ where is the use of it ? Just to get a bad name ; it is
better to get good security. It is diamond cut diamond,
and you save your bile." — But go she would ; she asked
me to back her up, and we went together, — ** Madame
is not at home." — " Go on ! " said Mother Mahuchet.
** We will wait for her if I stop here till midnight ! " —
So we camped down in the antechamber and chatted
together. Well, doors opened and shut; by and by
there was a sound of little footsteps and low voices ; and,
for my own part, I felt sorry. The company was
coming to dinner. You can judge of the turn things
took.

* The Countess sent in her own woman to wheedle
la Mahuchet — *^You shall be paid to-morrow" — and
all the rest of the ways of trying it on. — No go. — Then
the Countess, in her Sunday best, as you may say,
comes into the dining-room. La Mahuchet hears her,
flings open the door, and walks in. Lord ! at the sight
of the dinner-table, all sparkling like a jewel-case, the
dish-covers and the plate and the candle-sconces, she
went oiF like a soda-water bottle. She flings out her
bomb — ** Those that spend other people's money have
no business to give dinner-parties; they ought to live
quietly. You a Countess ! and you owe a hundred
crowns to a poor shoemaker's wife with seven children !"
— You can imagine how she ran on, an uneducated
woman as she is. At the first word of excuse — *^ No
money" — from the Countess, la Mahuchet cries out,
" Eh ! my lady, but there is silver-plate here ! Pawn
your spoons and forks and pay me ! " — " Take them
yourself," says the Countess, catching up half-a-dozen
and slipping them into her hand, and we hurried away
downstairs pellmell. — What a success ! Bah ! no.
Out in the street tears came into la Mahuchet's eyes,
she is a good soul; she took the things back, and

26 The Unconscious Mummers

apologised. She found out the depths of the Countess's
poverty — they were German silver ! '

^Dishcovered that she had no cover/ commented
Leon de Lora, in whom the Mistigris of old was apt to

reappear.

The pun flashed a sudden light across Mme. Nourris-
son's brain. ^ Aha ! my dear sir, you are an artist, a
dramatic writer, you live in the Rue du Helder, you
have kept company with Madame Antonia, I know a
few of your little ways ! . • • Come, now, do you want
something out of the common in the grand style.
Carabine or Mousqueton,. for instance, or Malaga or
Jenny Cadine ? '

' Malaga and Carabine, forsooth ! when we have made
them what they are ! ' cried Leon.

' My dear Mme. Nourrisson, I solemnly swear to you
that we wanted nothing but the pleasure of making your
acquaintance ; and as we wish to hear about your ante-
cedents, we should like to know how you came to drop
into your way of business,' said Bixiou.

^ I was a confidential servant in the household of a
Marshal of France,' she said, posing like a Dorine ; ^he
was the Prince d'Ysembourg. One morning one of the
finest ladies at the Emperor's court came to speak
privately with the Marshal. I took care at once to be
within hearing. Well, my Countess bursts into tears,
and tells that simpleton of a Marshal (the Prince
d'Ysembourg, the Conde of the Republic, and a simple-
ton to boot), she tells him that her husband was away at
the wars in Spain, and had left her without a single note
for a thousand francs, and that unless she can have one
or two at once, her children must starve, she had literally
nothing for to-morrow. Well, my Marshal, being
tolerably free-handed in those days, takes a couple of
thousand-franc notes out of his desk. — I watched the fair
Countess down the stairs. She did not see me; she was
laughing to herself with not altogether motherly glee.

The Unconscious Mummers 27

so I slipped out and heard her tell the chasseur in a low
voice to drive to Leroy*8, I rushed round. My mother
of a family goes to the famous shop in the Rue de
Richelieu — ^you know the place — and orders and pays for
a dress that cost fifteen hundred francs. You used to
pay for one dress by ordering another then. Two
nights afterwards she could appear at an ambassador's
ball, decked out as a woman must be when she wishes
to shine for all the world and for one besides. That very
day said I to myself, ^^ Here is an opening for me !
When I am no longer young, I will lend money to fine
ladies on their things ; passion cannot reckon, and pays
blindly." If it is a subject for a comedy that you want,
I will let you have some for a consideration '

And making an end of a harangue, coloured by all the
phases of her past life, she departed, leaving Gazonal in
dismay, caused partly by the matter of her discourse, but
at least as much by an exhibition of five yellow teeth
which she meant for a smile.

* What are we to do next ? * he inquired.

^Find some banknotes,' said Bixiou, whistling for his
porter; ^I want nioney, and I am going to teach you
the uses of a porter, i ou imagine that they are meant
to open doors ; whereas their real use is to help vagrants
like me out of difficulties, and to assist the artists
whom they take under their protection, for which
reason mine will take the Montyon prize some of these
days.'

The common expression, *eyes like saucers,* found
sufficient illustration in GazonaPs countenance at that
moment.

The man that suddenly appeared in the doorway was
of no particular age, a something between a private
detective and a merchant's clerk, but more unctuous and
sleeker than either; his hair was greasy, his person
paunchy, his complexion of the moist and unwholesome
kind that you observe in the superiors of convents.

28 The UficoMcioat Mumtneri

He wore » Utie clodi jacket^ drib trotuer^ uid li§t
fUpperf«

^what do you want^ fir?^ inquired tbif peffomge^
with a bai^^wtrofiifingy baif-fervtle mafincr,

^ Oh, Ravefioufllet--(his name if RavenottiUet^' aaid
Bfxkni, turning to Gaxonal) — ^have you your ^billi
receivable** zhtmtvout*

Ravenouiilet felt in a tide^pocket^ and produced tbe
•ticlcieit bor^k that Cia/zonal had ever neen in bit life#

^ Juftt enter a note of these two bilk for five hundred
francs at three months^ and put your name to them
for me/

Bixiou brought out a couple of notes made payable to
his order as be spoke* Ravenouiilet accepted them
forthwith, and noted them down on the greasy page
among his wife's entricf of various sums due from otner

lodfj^S*

^Thankst Ravenouiilet* Stay, here is an order for
the Vaudeville/

^ Ah, my child will enjoy herself ^ery much to-night/
said Ravenouiilet) as he went away*

^^rhere are seventy^one of us in the house/ said
Dixiou, ^ among us, on an average, we owe Ravenouiilet
six thousand francs per month, eighteen thousand francs
per quarter for advances and postafl;e, to say nothine of
rent* He is our Providence—at thirty per cent* We
pay him that without beinfl: so much as asked/

^ Oh, Paris ( Paris ( * exclaimed Cjazonal

K)n the wav,* said Bixiou, filling in his signature
^(fr>r I am going to show you another actor, Cousin
Ga/z^inal, and a charming scene he shall play, gratify
for you) *

* Where f * C/azonal broke in*

^ In a money'lender's office* On the way, I repeat, I
will tell you mm friend Ravenouiilet started in Paris/

As they paMcd the door of the lodge, Ga»>nal beard
Mile, f/ucienne Ravenouiilet, a student at the Conserva-^

The Unconscious Mummers 29

toire, practising her scales, her &ther was reading the
newspaper, and Mme. Ravenouillet came out with letters
in her hand for the lodgers above.

^ Thank you, M. Bixiou,' called the little one.

* That is not a ** rat," ' said Leon ; ^ it is a grasshopper
in the larva state.'

^ It seems that here, as all the world over, you win the
favour of those in oiEce by good oiEces,' began Gazonal.
Leon was charmed with the pun.

* He is coming on in our society ! * he cried.

* Now for Ravenouillet's history,' said Bixiou, when
the three stood outside on the boulevard. 'In 1831,
Massol (your chairman of committee, Gazonal) was a
journalist barrister. At that time he merely intended to
be Keeper of the Seals some day ; he scorned to oust
Louis-Philippe from the throne: pardon his ambition,
he comes from Carcassonne. One fine morning a
young fellow-countryman turned up. — ^^Monsu Massol,"
he said, ** you know me very well, my father is your
neighbour the grocer; I have just come from down
yonder, for they tell us that every one who comes here
gets a place." At those words a cold shiver ran through
Massol. He thought within himself that if he were so
ill advised as to oblige a compatriot, who for that
matter was a perfect stranger, he should have the whole
department tumbling in upon him. He thought of
the wear and tear to bell-pulls, door hinges, and carpets,
he saw his only servant giving notice, he had visions of
trouble with his landlord, of complaints from the other
tenants of the combined odours of garlic and diligence
introduced into the house. So he fixed upon his peti-
tioner such an eye as a butcher turns upon a sheep
brought into the shambles. In vain. His fellow country-
man survived that gaze, or rather that stab, and continued
his discourse much on this wise, according to MassoPs
report of it : —

^ ^.^ I have my ambitions, like every one else," said he ;

30 The Unconscious Mummers

^' I shall not go back again until I am rich, if indeed I
go back at all, for Paris is the ante-chamber of Paradise.
Thev tell me that you write for the newspapers, and do
anything you like with people here, and that for vou it
is ask and have with the Government. I have abilities,
like all of us down yonder, but I know myself: I have no
education; I cannot write (which is a pity, for
I have ideas) ; so I do not think of comine into
competition with you; I know myself; I should not
make anything out. But since you can do anything,
and we are brothers, as you may say, having played
together as children, I count upon you to give me a
start in life, and to use your influence for me. — Oh, you
must. I want a place, the kind of place to suit my
talents, a place that I, being I, am fitted to fill with a
chance Of making my fortune "

^ Massol was just on the point of brutally thrusting his
fellow-countryman out at the door with a rough word in
his ear, when the said countryman concluded thus : —

' ^^ So I do not ask for a place in the civil service, where
a man gets on as slowly as a tortoise, for there is your
cousin that has been a tax-collector these twenty years,
and is a tax-collector still — no ; I simply thought of

going ? " — " On the stage ? " put in Massol, greatlv

relieved by the turn things were taking. — '^ No. It is
true, I have the figure for it, and the memory, and the
gesticulation ; but it takes too much out of you. I
should prefer the career of a — porter.'' Massol kept his
countenance — "It will take far more out of you," he
said, "but you are not so likely, at any rate, to perform
to an empty house." — So he found Ravenouillet's ** first-
door-string " for him, as he says.'

^I was the first to take an interest in porters as a
class,' said Leon. ^Your moral humbugs, your char-
latans from vanity, vour latter-day sycophants, your
Septembrists disguised in trappings of decorous solem-
nity, your discoverers of problems palpitating with

The Unconscious Mummers 31

present importance, are all preaching the emancipation
of the negro, the improvement of the juvenile offender,
and philanthropic efforts on behalf of the ticket-of-
leave man ; while they leave their porters in a worse
plight than the Irish, living in dens more loathsome
than dark cells, upon a scantier pittance than the
Government grant per head for convicts. I have done
but one good deed in my life, and that is my porter's
lodge.'

^ Yes,' said Bixiou. ^Suppose that a man has built a
set of huge cages, divided up like a beehive or a
menagerie, into hundreds of cells or dens, in which
living creatures of every species are intended to ply their
various industries ; suppose that this animal, with the
face of an owner of house-property, should come to a
man of science and say — ^^ Sir, I want a specimen of the
order Bimana^ which shall live in a sink ten feet square,
filled with old boots and plague-stricken rags. I want
him to live in it all his life, and rear a family of children
as pretty as cherubs ; he must use it as a workshop,
kitchen, and promenade ; he must sing and grow flowers
in it, and never go out ; he must shut his eyes, and yet
see everything that goes on in the house." — Assuredly
the man of science could not invent the Porter ; Paris
alone, or the Devil if you like to have it so, was equal
to the feat.'

' Parisian industrialism has gone even further into the
regions of the Impossible,' added Gazonal. ^You in
Paris exhibit all kinds of manu&ctures ; but there are
by-products of which you know nothing. . . .There are
your working classes. — They bear the brunt of compe-
tition with foreign industries, hardship against hardship,
just as the regiments bore the brunt of Napoleon's duel
with Europe.

* Here we are. This is where our friend Vauvinet
lives,' said Bixiou. ^People who paint contemporary
manners are too apt to copy old portraits ; it is one of

32 The Unconscious Mummers

their greatest mistakes. In our own times every calling
has been transformed. Tradesmen are peers of France,
artists are capitalists, writers of vaudevilles have money
in the funds. Some few figures remain as before ; but,
generally speaking, most professions have dropped their
manners and customs along with their distinctive dress.
Gobseck, Gigonnet, Chaboisseau,and Samanon were the
last of the Romans ; to-day we rejoice in the possession
of our Vauvinet, the good fellow, the dandy-denizen of
the greenroom, the frequenter of the society of loretteSy
the owner of a neat little one-horse brougham. Watch
my man carefully, friend Ga2x>nal, and you shall see a
comedy of money. First, the cool, indifferent man that
will not ^ive a penny ; and second, the hot and eager
man smelling a profit. Of all things, listen to him.'

With that, the three mounted to a second-floor
lodging in a very fine house on the Boulevard des
Italiens, and at once found themselves amid elegant sur-
roundings in the height of the feshion. A young man
of eight-and-twenty, or thereabouts, came forward
almost laughingly at sight of Leon de Lora, held out a
hand to all appearance in the friendliest possible way to
Bixiou, gave Gazonal a distant bow, and brought the
three into his private office. All the man's bourgeois
tastes lurked beneath the artistic decorations of the room
in spite of the unimpeachable statuettes and number-
less trifles appropriated to the uses of petit s appartements
by modern art, grown petty to supply the demand.
Like most young men of business, Vauvinet was ex-
tremely carefully dressed, a man's clothes being as it
were a kind of prospectus among them.

^I have come to you for money,' said Bixiou, laughing
as he held out his bills.

Vauvinet's countenance immediately grew so grave
that Gazonal was amused at the difference between the
smiles of a minute ago and the professional bill-discount-
ing visage he turned on Bixiou.

The Unconscious Mummers 33

' I would oblige you with the greatest pleasure, my
dear fellow/ said he, ^but I have no cash at the
moment.'

' Oh, pshaw ! '

* No. I have paid it all away, you know where. Poor
old Lousteau is going to run a theatre. He has gone
into partnership with an ancient playwright that stands
very well with the ministry — Ridal, his name is — they
wanted thirty thousand francs of me yesterday. I am
drained dry, so dry indeed that I am just about to borrow
a hundred louis of Cerizet to pay for my losses this
morning at lansquenet, at Jenny Cadine's.'

'You must be drained dry indeed if you cannot
oblige poor Bixiou,' put in Leon de Lora, ^ for he can
say very nasty things when he is driven to it '

* I can only speak well of a man so well off,' said Bixiou.
*My dear fellow, even if I had the money, it would

be quite impossible to discount bills accepted by your
porter, even at fifty per cent. There is no demand for
Ravenouillet's paper. He is not exactly Rothschild. I
warn you that this sort of thing is played out. You
ought to try another firm. Look up an uncle, for the
friend that will back your bills is extinct, materialism

is so firightfuUy on the increase '

Bixiou turned to Gazonal.

* I have a friend here,' he said, ' one of the best known
cloth manufacturers in the South. His name is Ga-
zonal. His hair wants cutting,' continued Bixiou,
surveying the provincial's luxuriant and somewhat dis-
hevelled crop, * but I am just about to take him to
Marius, and his resemblance to a poodle, so deleterious to
his credit and ours, will presently disappear.'

* A Southern name is not good enough for me, without
offence to this gentleman be it said,' returned Vauvinet,
and Gazonal was so much relieved that he passed over
the insolence of the remark. Being extremely acute,
he thought that Bixiou and the painter meant to

c

34 The Unconscious Mummers

make him pay a thousand francs for the breakfast at the
Cafe de Paris by way of teaching him to know the town.
He had not yet got rid of the suspicion in which the
provincial always intrenches himself.

* How should I do business in the Pyrenees, six hun-
dred miles away? * added Vauvinct.

^So there is no more to be said ? ' returned Bixiou.

^ I have twenty francs at home.'

^ I am sorry for you,' said the author*^ of the hoax.
^ I thought I was worth a thousand francs/ he added
drily.

^ You are worth a hundred thousand francs,' Vauvinet
rejoined ; 'sometimes you are even beyond all price — but
I am drained dry.'

'Oh, well, we will say no more about it. I had
contrived as good a bit of business as you could wish at
Carabine's to-night — do you know ? '

Vauvinet's answer was a wink. So does one dealer in
horse-flesh convey to another the information that he is
not to be deceived.

' You have forgotten how you took me by the waist,
exactly as if I were a pretty woman, and said with
coaxing words and looks, ^' I will do anything for you,
if only you will get me shares at par in this railway
that du Tillet and Nucingen are bringing out," said
you. Very well, my dear fellow, Maxime and Nucingen
are coming to-night to meet several political folk at
Carabine's. You are losing a fine chance, old man.
Come. Good- day, dabbler.'

And Bixiou rose to go, leaving Vauvinet to all appear-
ance indifferent, but in reality as vexed as a man can
be with himself after a blunder of his own making.

* One moment, my dear fellow. I have credit if I
have no cash. If I can get nothing for your bills, I can
keep them till they fall due, and give you other bills
in exchange from my portfolio. After all, we might
possibly come to an understanding about those railway

The Unconscious Mummers 35

shares; we could divide the profits in a certain pro-
portion, and I would give you a draft on m3rself on
account of the prof *

*No, no,* returned Bixiou, 'I must have money; I
must cash my Ravenouillet elsewhere *

' And Ravenouillet is a good man/ resumed Vauvinet ;
^ he has an account at the savings bank ; a very good
man '

* Better than you are,* said Leon ; * he has no rent to
pay, he does not squander his money on lorettes^ nor does
he rush into speculation and shake in his shoes with
every rise and fall.'

^You are pleased to laugh, great man. You have
given us the quintessence of La Fontaine's fable of the
Oak and the Keed^ said Vauvinet, grown jovial and in-
sinuating all at once. — ^ Come, Gubetta, my old fellow
conspirator,' he continued, taking Bixiou by the waist,
* you want money, do you ? Very well, I may just as
well borrow three as two thousand francs of my friend
Cerizet. And ^^ Cinna, let us be friends ! " • • • Hand
us over those two leaves that grow from the root of all
evil. If I refused at first, it was because it is very hard
on a man that can only do his bit of business by passing
on bills to the Bank to make him keep your Rave-
nouillets locked up in the drawer of his desk. It is
hard; very hard '

* What discount ? '

* Next to nothing,' said Vauvinet. * At three months
it will cost you a miserable fifty francs.'

^ You shall be my benefactor, as Emile Blondet used to
say.'

'It is borrowing money at twenty per cent, per

annum, interest included * Gazonal began in a

whisper, but for all answer he received a blow firom
Bixiou's elbow directed at his windpipe.

' I say,' said Vauvinet, opening a drawer, * I perceive
an odd note for five hundred francs sticking to the

^6 The Unconscious Mummers

cloth. I did not know I was so rich. I was looking for
a Dill to offer you. I have one almost due for four hundred
and fifty. Cerizet will take it off you for a trifle ; and
that makes up the amount. But no tricks, Bixiou.
I am goine to Carabine's to-night, eh ? Will you

swear ?

* Are we not friends again ? ' asked Bixiou, taking the
banknote and the bill. * I give you my word of honour
that you shall meet du Tillet to-night and plenty of
others that have a mind to make their (rail)way.'

Vauvinet came out upon the landing with the three
friends, cajoling Bixiou to the last.

Bixiou listened with much seriousness while Gazonal
on the way downstairs tried to open his eyes to the
nature of the transaction just completed. Gazonal
proved to him that if Cerizet, this crony of Vauvinet's,
cSarged no more than twenty francs for discounting a
>«:i4 Iv^r four hundred and fifty francs, then he (Bixiou)
was borrowing money at the rate of forty per cent, per

«!inum.

Out upon the pavement Bixiou burst into a laugh,
tt^ laugh of a Parisian over a successful hoax, a sound-
>(s;^ joyless chuckle, a labial north-easter which froze
V^itonal into silence.

* The grant of the concession to the railway will be
M«t|vned at the Chamber,' he said; ^we knew that
x^ltrday from the marcheuse whom we met just now.
X«iJ if t win five or six thousand francs at lansquenet,
^tM^t \% a loss of sixty or seventy francs so long as you
IU^« something to stake ? '

^ l.«nsquenet is another of the thousand facets of Paris
Ul^ txMlay,' said Leon. * Wherefore, cousin, count upon
vHA« iiUriMlucing you to one of the duchesses of the Rue
s^^ul Cicorges. In her house you see the aristocracy of
tiiHVUr«i und may perhaps gain your lawsuit. But you
v«^ii«iot possibly show yourself with that Pyrenean crop,
\v^ KH)k like a hedgehog \ we will take you to Marius,

The Unconscious Mummers 37

close by in the Place de la Bourse. He is another of

our mummers/

* What is the new mummer ? '

^ Here comes the anecdote/ said Bixiou. ^ In 1800 a
young wigmaker named Cabot came from Toulouse,
and set up shop (to use your jargon) in Paris. This
genius — he retired afterwards with an income of twenty
thousand francs to Libourne — this genius, consumed with
ambition, saw that the name of Cabot could never be
famous. M. Parny, whom he attended professionally,
called him Marius, a name infinitely superior to the
"Armands" and "Hippolytes" beneath which other
victims of that hereditary complaint endeavour to con-
ceal the patronymic. All Cabot's successors have been
named Marius. The present Marius is Marius v. ; his
family name is Mougin. This is the way with many
trades, with Eau de Botot for example, and La Petite-
Vertu*s ink. In Paris a man's name becomes a part of
the business, and at length confers a certain status ; the
signboard ennobles. Marius left pupils behind him, too,
and created (it is said) the first school of hair-dressing
in the world.'

* I noticed before this as I travelled across France a
great many names upon signboards — So-and-so, from
Marius.^

'All his pupils are bound to wash their hands after
each customer,' continued Bixiou ; ' and Marius will
not take every one, a pupil must have a shapely hand
and tolerable good looks. The most remarkable of these,
for figure or eloquence, are sent out to people's houses ;
Marius only puts himself about for titled ladies. He
has a cab and a "groom."'

* But, after all, he is only a barber {merlan)^ Gazonal
cried indignantly.

* A barber!' repeated Bixiou. You must know that
he is a captain in the National Guard, and wears the Cross
because he was the first to leap a barricade in 1832.'

38 The Unconscious Mummers

* Be ctrefuL He is neither a hairdresser nor a wig-
maker i he is the manager of salons de coiffure^ said Leon
on the sumptuously carpeted staircase between the
mahogany hand-rails and cut-glass balusters.

* And, look here, do not disgrace us,' added Bixiou.
*The lackeys in the ante-chamber will take off your
coat and hat to brush them, open the door of the salon
and close it after you. Which is worth knowing, my
friend Gazonal,' Bixiou continued slyly, ^ or you might
cry "Thieves!"'

* The three salons are three boudoirs,' said Leon ; ^ the
manager has filled them with all that modern luxury
can devise. There are fringed lambrequins over the
windows, flower-stands everywhere, and silken couches,
on which you await your turn and read the newspapers
if all the dressing-rooms are occupied. As you come in,
you begin to finger your waistcoat pockets, and imagine
that they will charge you five francs at least; but
no pocket is mulcted of more than half a franc if the
hair is curled, or a firanc if the hairdresser cuts it.
Elegant toilet-tables stand among the flowers, there are
jets of water playing, you see yourself reflected every-
where in huge mirrors. So try to look as if you were
used to it. When the client comes in (Marius uses the
degant term ^^ client" instead of the common word
^ customer "), when the client appears on the threshold,
Marius appraises him at a glance ; for him you are '^ a
head" more or less worthy of his interest. From
Marius's point of view, there are no men — only heads.'

* We will tune Marius to concert-pitch for you,' said
Bixiou, ^ if you will follow our lead.'

When Ga2x>nal appeared upon the scenes, Marius at
once gave him an approving glance. ^ Regulus ! ' cried
he, ^ take this head. Clip with the small shears first
of all.'

At a sign from Bixiou, Gazonal turned to the pupiL
* Pardon me,' he said, ^ I wish to have M. Marius him-
•df/

The Unconscious Mummers 39

Greatly flattered by this speech, Marius came forward,
leaving the head on which he was engaged.

^ I am at your service, I am just at an end. Be quite
easy, my pupil will prepare you, I myself will decide on
the style.*

' Marius, a little man, his face seamed with the small-
pox, his hair frizzed after Rubini's fashion, was dressed
in black from head to foot. He wore white cufFs and a
diamond in his shirt-frill. He recognised Bixiou, and
saluted him as an equal power.

^ A commonplace head,' he remarked to Leon, indi-
cating the subject under his fingers, ^ a philistine. But
what can one do ? If one lived by art alone, one would
end raving mad at Bicetre.' And he returned to his
client with an inimitable gesture and a parting injunction
to Regulus, ^ Be careful with that gentleman, he is
evidently an artist.'

' A journalist,' said Bixiou.

At that word Marius passed the comb two or three
times over the ^ commonplace head,' swooped down upon
Gazonal just as the small shears were brought into play,
and caught Regulus by the arm with —

* I will take this gentleman. — Look, see yourself in
the large mirror, sir (if the glass can stand it),' he said,
addressing the relinquished philistine. — ^ Ossian ! '

A lackey came in and carried ofF the * client.'

^ Pay at the desk, sir,' said Marius as the bewildered
customer drew out his purse.

*Is it any use, my dear fellow, to proceed to this
operation with the small shears ? ' asked Bixiou.

^ A head never comes under my hands until it has
been brushed,' said the great man ; * but on your
account I will take this gentleman from beginning to
end. The blocking out I leave to my pupils, I do not
care to take it. Everybody, like vou, is for " M. Marius
himself" ; I can only give the finishing touches. For
what paper does monsieur write ? '

40 The Unconscious Miimmers

^ In your place I would have three or four editions of

Marius.'

^ Ah ! monsieur is a feuilletoniste, I see,' said Marius.
^ Unluckily, a hairdresser must do his work himself, it
cannot be done by a deputy. . . , Pardon me.'

He left Gazonal to give an eye to Regulus, now
engaged with a newly-arrived head, and made a disapprov-
ing comment thereon, an inarticulate sound produced by
tongue and palate, which may be rendered thus — * titt,
titt, titt.'

* Goodness gracious ! come now, that is not broad
enough, your scissors are leaving furrows behind them.
. • . Stay a bit ; look here, Regulus, you are not clipping
poodles, but men — men with characters of their own ; and
if you continue to gaze at the ceiling instead of dividing
your attention between the glass and the face, you will
be a disgrace to " my house." '

* You are severe, M. Marius.'

* I must do my duty by them, and teach them the
mysteries of the art '

* Then it is an art, is it ? '

Marius stopped in indignation, the scissors in one
hand, the comb in the other, and contemplated Gazonal
in the glass.

* Monsieur, you talk like a child. And yet,

from your accent, you seem to come from the South,
the land of men of genius.'

* Yes. It requires taste of a kind, I know,' returned
Gazonal.

^ Pray say no more, monsieur ! I looked for better
things from you. I mean to say that a hairdresser (I
do not say a good hairdresser, for one is either a hair-
dresser or one is not), a hairdresser is not so easily found
as — what shall I say ? — as — I really hardly know — as a
Minister — (sit still) no, that will not do, for you cannot
judge of the value of a Minister, the streets are full of
them. — A Paganini ? — no, that will not quite do. — A

The Unconscious Mummers 41

hairdresser, monsieur, a man that can read your character
and your habits, must have that in him which makes a
philosopher. And for the women ! But there, women
appreciate us, they know our value; they know that
their truimphs are due to us when they come to us to
prepare them for conquest . . , which is to say that a
hairdresser is — but no one knows what he is. I myself,
for instance, you will scarcely find a — well, without
boasting, people know what I am. Ah ! well, no, I
think there should be a better yet. . . . Execution, that
is the thing ! Ah, if women would but give me a free
hand ; if I could but carry out all the ideas that occur
to me ! — for I have a tremendous imagination, you see
— but women will not co-operate with you, they have
notions of their own, they will run their fingers or their
combs through the exquisite creations that ought to be
engraved and recorded, for our works only live for a
few hours, you see, sir ! Ah ! a great hairdresser should
be something like what Careme and Vestris are in their
lines. — (Your head this way, if you please, I am catch-
ing the expression. That will do.) — Bunglers, incapable
of understanding their epoch or their art, are the ruin
of our profession. — They deal in wigs, for instance, or
hair-restorers, and think of nothing but selling you a
bottle of stuff, making a trade of the profession ; it
makes one sorry to see it. The wretches cut your hair
and brush it anyhow. Now, when I came here from
Toulouse, it was my ambition to succeed to the great
Marius, to be a true Marius, and in my person to add
such lustre to the name as it had not known with the
other four. " Victory or death ! " said I to myself.
(Sit up, I have nearly finished.) I was the first to aim
at elegance. My salons excited curiosity. I scorn
advertisements; I spend the cost of advertisements on
comfort, monsieur, on improvements. Next year I
shall have a quartette in a little salon; I shall have
music, and the best music. Yes, one must beguile the

42 The Unconscious Mummers

tedium of the time spent in the dressing-room. I do
not shut mv eyes to the unpleasant aspects of the
operation, (Look at yourself.) A visit to the hair-
dresser is perhaps quite as tiring as sitting for a portrait.
Monsieur knows the fimous M. de Humboldt? (I
minieed to make the most of the little hair that
America spared to him, for science has this much in
common with the savage — she is sure to scalp her man.)
Well, the great man said, as monsieur perhaps knows,
that if it was painful to go to be handed, it was only
less painful to sit for your portrait. I myself am of
the opinion of a good many women, that a visit to the
hairdresser is more trying than a visit to the studio.
Well, monsieur, I want people to come here for plea-
sure. (You have a rebellious tuft of hair.) A Jew
suggested Italian opera-singers to pluck out the grey
hairs of young fellows of forty in the intervals ; but his
signoras turned out to be young persons from the
Conservatoire, or pianoforte teachers from the Rue
Montmartre. — Now, monsieur, your hair is worthy of
a man of talent. — Ossian ! ' (to the lackey in livery)
* brush this gentleman's coat, and go to the door with
him. — Who comes next ? ' he added majestically, glanc-
ing round a group of customers waiting for their turn.

^ Do not laugh, Gazonal,' said Leon as they reached
the foot of the stairs. ^ I can see one of our great men
down yonder,' he continued, exploring the Place de la
Bourse with his eyes. ' You shall have an opportunity
of making a comparison; when you have heard him
talk, you shall tell me which is the queerer of the two-
he or the hairdresser.'

* *^ Do not laugh, Gazonal," ' added Bixiou, imitating
Leon's manner. 'What is Marius's business, do you
think i ;

* He is a hairdresser.'

* He has gradually made a monopoly of the wholesale
trade in human hair, just as the provision dealer of whom

The Unconscious Mummers 43

we shall shortly buy a Strasbourg pie for three francs
has the truffle trade entirely in his hands. He discounts
bills in his line of business, he lends money to customers
at a pinch, he deals in annuities, he speculates on
'Change, he is a shareholder in all the &shion papers ;
and finally, under the name of a chemist, he sells an
abominable drug which brings him in thirty thousand
francs per annum as his share of the profits, and costs a
hundred thousand francs in advertisements.'

* Is it possible ? '

^Bear this in mind,' Bixiou replied with gravity,
' in Paris there is no such thing as a small trade ; every-
thing here is done on a large scale, be it frippery or
matches. The barkeeper standing with a napkin under
his arm to watch you enter his shop very likely has an
income of fifty thousand francs from investments in the
funds. The waiter has a vote, and may offer himself for
election ; a man whom you might take for a beggar in
the street carries a hundred thousand francs' worth of
unmounted diamonds in his waistcoat pocket, and does
not steal them.'

The three, inseparable for that day at least, were
piloted by Leon de Lora in such sort that at the corner
of the Rue Vivienne they ran against a man of forty or
thereabouts with a ribbon in his buttonhole.

' My dear Dubourdieu, what are you dreaming about ?
Some beautiful allegorical composition ? ' asked Leon. —
^ My dear cousin, I have the pleasure of introducing you
to the well-known painter Dubourdieu, celebrated no less
for his genius than for his humanitarian convictions. —
Dubourdieu, my cousin Palafox ! '

Dubourdieu, a pallid little man with melancholy blue
eyes, nodded slightly while Gazonal bowed low to the
man of genius.

' So you have nominated Stidmann instead of '

^ How could I help it ! I was away,' returned Leon
de Lora.

44 The Unconscious Mummers

'Yoii are lowering the standard of the Acad^mie,'
resumed the painter. 'To think of choosing such a
man as that ! I do not wish to say any harm of him,
but he really is a craftsman. . . . What is to become of
the first and most permanent of all the arts, of sculpture
that reveals the life of a nation when everything else,
even the memory of its existence, has passed away— of
sculpture that sets the seal of eternity upon the great
man ? The sculptor's office is sacred. He sums up the
thought of his age, and you, forsooth, fill the ranks of
the priesthood by taking in a bungling mantelpiece
maker, a designer of drawing-room ornaments, one of
those that buy and sell in the Temple ! Ah ! as
Chamfort said, " If you are to endure life in Paris, you
must begin by swallowing a viper every morning. . . ."
After all. Art remains to us ; no one can prevent us
from cultivating Art.'

* And besides, my dear fellow, you have a consolation
which few among artists possess — the future is yours,'
put in Bixiou. * When every one is converted to our
doctrine, you will be the foremost man in your art, for
the ideas which you put into your work will be compre-
hensible to all — when they are common property. In
fifty years' time you will be for the world at large what
you are now for u? — a great man. It is only a question
of holding out till then.'

The artist's face smoothed itself out, after the wont
of mortal man when flattered on his weak side. * I have
just finished an allegorical figure of Harmony,' he said.
' If you care to come to see it, you will understand at
once how I managed to put two years' work into it. It
is all there. At a glance you see the Destiny of the
Globe. She is a queen holding a bishop's crozier, the
symbol of the aggrandisement of races useful to man ;
on her head she wears the cap of Liberty, and after the
Egyptian fashion (the ancient Egyptians seem to have
had foreshadowings of Fourier) she has six breasts. Her

The Unconscious Mummers 45

feet rest upon two clasped hands, which enclose the
globe between them, to signify the brotherhood of man ;
beneath her lie broken fragments of cannon, because all
war is abolished, and I have tried to give her the serenity
of Agriculture triumphant. At her feet, besides, I have
put an enormous Savoy cabbage, the Master's symbol of
Concord, Oh, it is not Fourier's least claim to our
veneration that he revived the association of plants and
ideas ; every detail in creation is linked to the rest by
its significance as a part of a whole, and no less by its
special language. In a hundred years' time the globe
will be much larger than it is now '

* And how will that come to pass ? ' inquired Gazonal,
amazed to hear a man outside a lunatic asylum talking
in this way.

* By the increase of production. If people make up
their minds to apply the System, it should react upon
the stars ; it is not impossible '

* And in that case what will become of painting ? '
asked Gazonal,

* Painting will be greater than ever,'

* And will our eyes be larger ? ' continued Grazonal,
looking significantly at his friends,

^Man will be once more as in the days before his
degradation ; our six-foot men will be dwarfs when that
time comes ^

' How about your picture,' interrupted Leon ; Ms it
finished ? '

* Quite finished,' said Dubourdieu. * I tried to see
Hiclar about a symphony. I should like those who see
the picture to hear music in Beethoven's manner at the
same time ; the music would develop the ideas, which
would thus reach the intelligence through the avenues of
sight and sound. Ah ! if the Government would only
lend me one of the halls in the Louvre '

*But I will mention it if you like. Nothing that
can strike people'*s minds should be left undone.'

46 The Unconscious Mummers

^ Oh ! mv friends are preparing articles, but I am
afraid that toey may go too far.'

^ Pshaw ! ' said Bixiou, they will go nothing like as
fiu- as the Future *

Dubourdieu eyed Bixiou askance and went on his way.

^ Why, the man is a lunatic/ said Grazonal, ^ moon-
struck and mad.'

' He has technical skill and knowledge/ said Leon,
^ but Fourier has been the ruin of him. You have just
seen one way in which ambition affects an artist. Too
often here in Paris, in his desire to reach fame (which
for an artist means fortune) by some short cut, he
will borrow wings of circumstance; he will think to
increase his stature by identifying himself with some
Cause, or advocating some system, hoping in time to
widen his coterie into a public. Such an one sets up to
be a Republican, such another a Saint-Simonian, an
aristocrat or a Catholic, or he is for the juste milieu^ or
the Middle Ages, or for Germany. But while opinions
cannot give talent, they inevitably spoil it ; witness this
unfortunate being whom you have just seen. An artistes
opinion ought to be a faith in works ; and his one way
to success is to work while Nature gives him the sacred
fire.'

' Let us fly, Leon is moralising,' said Bixiou.'

' And did the man seriously mean what he said ? '
cried Gazonal; he had not yet recovered from his
amazement.

'Very seriously,' replied Bixiou; 'he was quite as
much in earnest as the king of hairdressers just now.'

' He is crazy,' said Gazonal.

* He is not the only man driven crazy by Fourier's
notions,' returned Bixiou. 'You know nothing of
Paris. Ask for a hundred thousand francs to carry out
some idea most likely to be useful to the species (to try
a steam-engine, for instance), you will die like Salomon
de Caus at Bicetre ; but when it comes to a paradox.

The Unconscious Mummers 47

any one will be cut in pieces for it — he and his fortune.
Well, here it is with systems as with practical matters.
Impossible newspapers have consumed millions of francs
in the last fifteen years. The very fact that you are in
the right of it makes your lawsuit so difficult to win ;
taken together with the other fact that your prefect has
his own private ends to gain, as you say.

^ Can you understand how a clever man can live any-
where but in Paris when once he knows the psychology
of the city ? ' asked Leon.

' Suppose that we take Gazonal to Mother Fontaine/
suggested Bixiou, beckoning a hackney cab, ^ it would be
a transition from the severe to the fantastic. — Drive to
the Rue Vieille-du-Temple,' he called to the man, and
the three drove away in the direction of the Marais.

^ What are you taking me to see ? '

^Ocular demonstration of Bixiou's remarks,' said
Leon ; ^ you are to be shown a woman who makes
twenty thousand francs per annum by exploiting an
idea.'

'A fortune-teller,' explained Bixiou, construing
Gazonal's expression as a question. ' Among folk that
wish to know the future, Mme. Fontaine is held to be
even wiser than the late Mile. Lenormand.'

*She must be very rich ! '

'She has hllen a victim to her idea since lotteries
came into existence. In Paris, you see, great receipts
always mean a large expenditure. Every hard head has
a crack in it somewhere, like a safety-valve, as it were,
for the steam. Every one that makes a great deal of
money has his weaknesses or his fancies, a provision of
nature probably to keep the balance.'

' And now that lotteries are abolished ? '

' Oh, well, she has a nephew, and is saving for him.'

Arrived in the Rue Vieille-du-Temple, the three
friends entered one of the oldest houses in the street, and
discovered a tremulous staircase, with wooden steps laid

48 The Unconscious Mummers

on a fbundatioo of concrete. Up ther went in the per-
petual twilight, through the fetid atmosphere peculiar to
houses with a passage entnr, till they reached the third
storr, and a door which can onlv be described bva draw-
ing ; any attempt to gi\'e an adequate idea of it in words
would consume too much midnight oil.

An old crone, so much in keeping with the door that
she might haix been its Uving counterpart, admitted the
three into a room which did duty as an antechamber, icy
cold as a crypt, while the streets outside were sweltering
in the heat. Puffs of damp air came up from an inner
court, a sort of huge breathing-hole in the building ; a
box full of sickly-looking plants stood on the window-
ledge. A grey daylight filled the room. Everything
was glazed over with a greasy fiiliginous deposit; the
chairs and table, the whole room, in fact, was squalid ;
the damp oozed up through the brick floor like water
through the sides of a Moorish jar. There was not a
single detail which did not harmonise with the hook-
nosed, pallid, repulsive old hag in the much-mended
rags, who asked them to be seated, and informed them
that Madame never saw more than one person at a
time.

Gazonal screwed up his courage and went boldly
forwards.

The woman whom he confronted looked like one
of those whom Death has forgotten, or more probably
left as a copy of himself in the land of the living. Two
grey eyes, so immovable that it tired you to look at them,
glittered in a fleshless countenance on either side of a
sunken, snufF-bedabbled nose. A set of knuckle-bones,
firmly mounted with sinews almost like bone, made as
though they were human hands, thrumming like a piece
of machinery thrown out of gear upon a pack of cards.
The body, a broomstick decently draped with a gown,
enjoyed the advantages of still life to the full ; it did
not move a hairVbreadth. A black velvet cap rose

The Unconscious Mummers 49

above the automaton's forehead. Mme. Fontaine, for
she was really a woman, sat with a black fowl on her right
hand, and a fat toad named Ashtaroth on her left.
Gazonal did not notice the creature at first.

The toad, an animal of portentous size, was less
alarming in himself than by reason of a couple of topazes,
each as large as a fifty centime piece, that glowed like
lamps in his head. Their gaze was intolerable. * The
toad is a m3rsterious creature, as the late M. Lassailly used
to say, after lying out in the fields to have the last word
with a toad that fascinated him. Perhaps, all creation,
man included, is summed up in the toad ; for Lassailly
tells us that it lives on almost indefinitely, and it is
well known that, of all animals, its mating lasts the
longest.

The black fowl's cage stood two feet away from a
table covered with' a green cloth ; a plank like a draw-
bridge lay between.

When the woman, the least real of the strange com-
pany about a table worthy of Hoffmann, bade Gazonal
* Cut ! ' — the honest manufacturer shuddered in spite of
himself. The secret of the formidable power of such
creatures lies in the importance of the thing we seek to
learn of them. Men and women come to buy hope of
them ; and they know it.

The sibyl's cave was a good deal darker than the ante-
chamber, so much so, in fact, that you could not distinguish
the colour of the wall-paper. The smoke- begrimed
ceiling, so far from reflecting, seemed rather to absorb"
such feeble light as struggled in through a window
blocked up with bleached sickly-looking plant-life ; but
all the dim daylight in the place fell full upon the table
at which the sorceress sat. Her armchair and a chair for
Gazonal completed the furniture of a little room cut
in two by a garret, where Mme. Fontaine evidently
slept. A little door stood ajar, and the murmur of a pot
boiling on the fire reached Gazonal's ears. The sounds

D

50 The Unconscious Mummers

from the kitchen, the compound of odours in which
effluvia from the fink predominated, called up an incon*

(i;ruouf auociation of ideas — the neccMitiet of everydajr
ife and the tense of the supernatural. Disgust was
mingled with curiosity. Gazonal caught sight of the
lowest step of the deal staircase which led to the garret;
he saw all these particulars at a elance, and his gorse
rose. The kind of terror inspired by similar scenes m
romances and German plays was somehow so different ;
the absence of illusion, the prosaic sensation caught him by
the throat* He felt heavy and dizzy in that atmosphere ;
the eloom set his nerves on edge« With the very cox-
combry of courage, he turned his eyes on the toad, and
with sickening sensation of heat in the pit of the
stomach, felt a sort of panic such as a criminal mieht
feel at sight of a policeman* Then he sought comfort
in a scrutiny of Mme« Fontaine, and found a pair of
colourless, almost white eves, with intolerable un-
wavering black pupils. Tne silence grew positively
appalling.

^ What does monsieur wish ? ' asked Mme. Fontaine.
^ His fortune for five francs, or ten francs, or the
grand jeu ? *

^ Five francs is quite dear enough,' said the Provencal,
making unspeakable efforts to fight aeainst the influences
of the place. But just as he strove for self-possenion, a
diabolical cackle made him start on his chair. The
black hen emitted a sound.

^ Go away, my girl. Monsieur only wishes to spend
five francs.'

The hen seemed to understand, for when she stood
within a step of the cards, she turned and walked solemnly
back to her place.

^ Which IS your favourite flower?' asked the old
crone, in a voice hoarse with the accumulation of phlegm
in her throat.

*The rose.'

The Unconscious Mummers 51

' Your &vourite colour ? '

* Blue.'

^ What animal do you like best ? '

* The horse. Why do you ask ? ' queried Gazonal in
turn.

^ Man is linked to other forms of life by his own
previous existences,' she said sententiously, 'hence his
instincts, and his instincts control his destiny. — Which
kind of food do you like best ; fish, game, grain, butcher
meat, sweet things, fruit, or vegetables ? '

'Game.'

' In what month were you born ? '

' September.'

' Hold out your hand.'

Mme. Fontaine scanned the palm put forth for her
inspection with close attention. All this was done in a
business-like way, with no attempt to give a super-
natural colour to the proceedings; a notary asking a
client's wishes with regard to the drafting of a lease could
not have been more straightforward. The cards being
sufficiently shuffled, she asked Gazonal to cut and make
them up into three packs. This done, she took up the
packs, spread them out one above another, and eyed
them as a gambler eyes the thirty-six numbers at
roulette before he stakes his money.

Gazonal felt a cold chill freeze the marrow of his
bones ; he scarcely knew where he was ; but his sur-
prise grew more and more when this repulsive hag in
the greasy, flabby green skull-cap, and false front that
exhibited more black silk than hair curled into points of
interrogation, began to tell him, in her rheumy voice, of
all the events, even the most intimate history of his past
life. She told him his tastes, his habits, his character,
his ideas even as a child ; she knew all that might have
influenced his life. There was his projected marriage, for
instance ; she told him why and by whom it was broken
oflF, giving him an exact description of the woman he had

52 The Unconscious Mummers

loved ; and finally she named his district, and told him
about his lawsuit, and so on, and so on.

Gazonal thought at first that the whole thing was a
hoax got up for his benefit by his cousin; but the
absurdity of this theory struck him almost at once, and
he sat in gaping astonishment. Opposite sat the infernal
power incarnate, a power that, from among all human
shapes, had borrowed that one which has struck the
imagination of poets and painters throughout all time as
the most appalling — a cold-blooded, shrunken, asthmatic,
toothless hag, with hard lips, flat nose, and pale eyes.
Nothing was alive about Mme. Fontaine's fiice save
the eyes ; some gleam from the depths of the future or
the fires of hell sparkled in them.

Gazonal, scarcely knowing what he said, interrupted
her to ask the uses of the fowl and the toad.

*To foretell the future. The "consultant** himself
scatters some seeds over the cards ; Cleopatra comes to
pick them up ; and Ashtaroth creeps over them to seek
the food that the client gives him. Their wonderful
intelligence is never deceived. Would you like to see
them at work and hear your future read ? It costs a
hundred francs.'

But Gazonal, dismayed by Ashtaroth's expression, bade
the terrible Mme. Fontaine good-day, and fled into the
next room. He was damp with perspiration; he seemed
to feel an unclean spirit brooding over him.

^ Let us go out of this,' he said. ' Has either of you
ever consulted this witch ? '

' I never think of taking a step in life until Ashtaroth
has given his opinion,' said Leon, ' and I am always the
better for it.'

' I am still expecting the honest competence promised
me by Cleopatra,' added Bixiou.

^ I am in a fever ! ' cried the child of the South. ' If
I believed all that you tell me, I should believe in witch-
craft, in a supernatural power.'

The Unconscious Mummers 53

^It can only be natural,* put in Bixiou. ^Half the
artists alive, one-third of the lorettes, and one-fourth of
the statesmen consult Mme. Fontaine. It is well known
that she acts as Egeria to a certain statesman.'

* Did she tell you your fortune ? ' inquired Leon.

* No. I had quite enough of it with the past.' A
sudden idea struck Gazonal. ^ But if she and her dis-
gusting coUaborators can foretell the future,' he said,
^ how is it that she is unlucky in the lottery ? '

^ Ah ! there you have set your finger on one of the
great mjrsteries of occult science,' answered Leon. 'So
soon as the personal element dims the surface of that
inward mirror, as it were, which reflects past and future,
so soon as you introduce any motive foreign to the
exercise of this power that they possess, the sorcerer or
sorceress at once loses the power of vision. It is the
same with the artist who systematically prostitutes art
to gain advancement or alien ends; he loses his gift.
Mme. Fontaine once had a rival, a man who told fortunes
on the cards ; he fell into criminal courses, yet he never
foresaw his own arrest, conviction, and sentence. Mme.
Fontaine is right eight times out of ten, yet she never
could tell that she should lose her stake in the lottery.'

'It is the same with magnetism,' Bixiou remarked.
' A man cannot magnetise himself.'

'Good ! Now comes magnetism. What next ! Do
you really know everything?'

' My friend Gazonal, before you can laugh at every-
thing, you must know everything,' said Bixiou with
fravity. ' For my own part, I have known Paris since
wzs a boy, and my pencil helps me to laugh for a live-
lihood at the rate of five caricatures per month. So I
very often laugh at an idea in which I have faith.'

' Now, let us go in for something else,' said Leon.
'Let us drive to the Chamber and arrange the cousin's
business.'

'This,' continued Bixiou, burlesquing Odry and

54 'I'he Unconscious Mummers

Gaillard, * is High Comedy ; we will draw out the first
great speaker that we meet in the Salle des Pas Perdus ;
and there, as everywhere else, you shall hear the Parisian
harping upon two eternal strings — Self-interest and
Vanity.

As they stepped into the cab aeain, Leon noticed a
man driving rapidly past, and signalled his wish to speak
a word with the newcomer.

* It is Publicola M asson,' he told Bixiou ; ^ I will just
ask him for an interview this evening at five o'clock
when the House rises. The cousin shall see the queerest
of all characters.'

* Who is it ? ' asked Gazonal, while Leon went across
to speak to his man.

^ A chiropodist, that will cut your corns by contract,
an author of a treatise on chiropody. If the Republicans
triumph for six months, he will without doubt have a
place in history.'

* And does he keep a carriage ? '

* No one but a millionaire can afford to go about on
foot here, my friend.'

* The Chamber ! ' Leon called to the driver.
« Which, sir?'

^ The Chamber of Deputies,' said Leon, exchanging
a smile with Bixiou.

* Paris is beginning to confuse me,' sighed Gazonal.
*To show you its immensity — moral, political, and

literary — we are copying the Roman cicerone that shows
you a thumb of the statue of St. Peter, which you take
for a life-size figure until you find out that a finger is
more than a foot long. You have not so much as
measured one of the toes of Paris yet '

'And observe, cousin Gazonal, that we are taking
things as they come, we are not selecting.'

' You shall have a Belshazzar's feast to-night ; you
shall see Paris, our Paris, playing at lansquenet, staking
a hundred thousand francs without winking an eye.'

The Unconscious Mummers 55

Fifteen minutes later their hackney cab set them
down by the flight of steps before the Chamber of
Deputies on that side of the Pont de la Concorde which
leads to discord.

* I thought the Chambers were unapproachable,' said
Gazonal, surprised to find himself in the great Salle des
Pas Perdus.

'That depends,' said Bixiou. 'Physically speaking,
it costs you thirty sous in cab hire ; politically speaking,
rather more. A poet says tl^t the swallows think that
the Arc de Triomphe de I'Etoile was built for them ;
and we artists believe that this public monument was
built to console the failures on the stage of the Theatre-
Fran^ais and to amuse us; but these state-paid play-
actors are more expensive than the others, and it is not
every day that we get our money*s worth.'

' So this is the Chamber ! . • • repeated Gazonal. He
strode through the great hall, almost empty now, looking
about him with an expression which Bixiou noted down
in his memory for one of the famous caricatures in which
he rivals Gavarni. Leon on his side walked up to one
of the ushers who come and go constantly between the
Salle des Seances itself and the lobby, where the reporters
of the Moniteur are at work while the House is sitting,
with some persons attached to the Chamber.

' The Minister is here,' the usher was telling Leon as
Gazonal came up, 'but I do not know whether M.

Giraud has gone or not ; I will see ' He opened

one of the folding doors through which no one is allowed
to pass save deputies, ministers, or royal commissioners,
when a man came out, young as yet, as it seemed to
Gazonal, in spite of his forty-eight years. To this
newcomer the usher pointed out Leon de Lora.

' Aha ! you here ! ' he said, shaking hands with Leon
and Bixiou. ' You rascals ! what do you want in the
innermost sanctuary of law ? '

' Gad ! we have come for a lesson in the art of

56 The Unconscious Mummers

humbug,* said Bixiou. ' One gets rusty if one does
not.*

' Then let us go out into the garden/ said the new-
comer, not knowing that Gazonal was one of the
company.

G^izonal was at a loss how to classify the well-dressed
stranger in plain black from head to foot, with a ribbon
and an order; but he followed to the terrace by the
river once known as the Quai Napoleon. Out in the
garden the ci-devant young man gave vent to a laugh,
suppressed since his appearance in the Salle des Pas
Perdus.

* Why, what is the matter with you ? * asked Leon.

'My dear friend, we are driven to tell terrific lies
with incredible coolness to prove the sincerity of the
constitutional government. Now I myself have my
moods. There are days when I can lie like a political
programme, and others when I cannot keep my coun-
tenance. This is one of my hilarious days. Now the
Opposition has called upon the chief secretary to dis-
close secrets of diplomacy which he would not impart
if they were in office, and at this moment he is on his
legs preparing to go through a gymnastic performance.
And as he is an honest man that will not lie on his own
account, he said confidentially to me before he mounted
to the breach, '^ I have not a notion what to tell them.'*
So, when I saw him there, an uncontrollable desire to
laugh seized me, and I went out, for you cannot very
well have your laugh out on the Ministerial benches,
where my youth occasionally revisits me unseasonably.*

' At last ! * cried Gazonal. ' At last ! I have found an
honest man in Paris. You must be indeed great ! * he
continued, looking at the stranger.

'I say, who is this gentleman?' inquired the other,
scrutinising Gazonal as he spoke.

'A cousin of mine,' Leon put in hastily. *I can
answer for his silence and loyalty as for my own. We

The Unconscious Mummisrs 57

have come here on his account ; he has a lawsuit on
hand, it depends on your department ; his prefect simply
wishes to ruin him, and we have come to see you about
it and to prevent the Council of State from confirming
injustice.'

* Who is the chairman ? *

* Massol.*
«Good/

'And our friends Claude Vignon and Giraud are on
the committee,' added Bixiou.

'Just say a word to them, and let them come to
Carabine's to-night,' said Leon* ' Du Tillet is giving a
party, ostensibly a meeting of railway shareholders, for
they rob you more than ever on the highways now.'

'But, I say, is this in the Pyrenees?' inquired the
young-looking stranger, grown serious by this time.

' Yes,' said Gazonal.

' And you do not vote for us at the general election,'
he continued, fixing his eyes on Gazonal.

'No; but the remarks you made just now have cor-
rupted me. On the honour of a Commandant of the
National Guard, I will see that your candidate is
returned '

'Very well. Can you further guarantee your
cousin ? ' asked the young-looking man, addressing
Leon.

' We are forming him,' said Bixiou, in a very comical
tone.

' Well, I shall see,' said the other, and he hurried back
to the Salle des Seances.

' I say, who is that ? '

' The Comte de Rastignac ; he is the head of the
department in which your affair is going on.'

' A Minister ! Is that all ? '

' He is an old friend of ours as well, and he has three
hundred thousand livres a year, and he is a peer of
France, and the King has given him the title of Count.

58 The Unconscious Mummers

He is Nucingen's son-in-law, and one of the two or
three statesmen produced by the Revolution of July.
Now and then, however, he finds office dull, and comes
out to have a laugh with us.'

^ But, look here, cousin, you did not tell us that you
were on the other side down yonder,' said Leon, taking
Gazonal by the arm. ' How stupid you are ! One
deputy more or less to the Right or Left, will you sleep
any the softer for that ? '

' We are on the side of the others '

^ Let them be,' said Bixiou — Monrose himself could
not have spoken the words more comically — ^ let them
be, they have Providence on their side, and Providence
will look after them without your assistance and in spite
of themselves. — A manufacturer is bound to be a neces-
sarian.'

* Good ! here comes Maxime with Canalis and Giraud,'
cried Leon.

^ Come, friend Gazonal ; the promised actors are
arriving on the scene.'

The three went towards the newcomers, who to all
appearance were lounging on the terrace.

' Have they sent you about your business that you are
doing like this ? ' inquired Bixiou, addressing Giraud.

' No. We have come out for a breath of air till the
ballot is over.'

* And how did the chief secretary get out of it ? '
^ He was magnificent ! ' said Canalis.

* Magnificent ! ' from Giraud.

' Magnificent ! ' from Maxime.

^ I say ! Right, Left, and Centre all of one mind ! '

^ Each of us has a different idea in his head though,'
Maxime de Trailles remarked. (Maxime was a Minis-
terialist.)

'Yes,' laughed Canalis. Canalis had once been in
office, but he was now edging away towards the
Right.

The Unconscious Mummers 59

*You have just enjoyed a great triumph,' Maxime
said, addressing Canalis, ^ for you drove the Minister to
reply.*

^ Yes, and to lie like a charlatan,' returned Canalis,
' A glorious victory ! * commented honest Giraud.
' What would you have done in his place ? *

* I should have lied likewise.'

' Nobody calls it '* lying," ' said Maxime ; Mt is called
" covering the Crown," ' and he drew Canalis a few
paces aside.'

Leon turned to Giraud.

* Canalis is a very good speaker,' he said.

' Yes and no,' returned the State Councillor. ^ He is
an empty drum, an artist in words rather than a speaker.
In short, 'tis a fine instrument, but it is not music, and
therefore he has not had and never will have ^^ the ear of
the House." He thinks that France cannot do without
him ; but whatever happens, he cannot possibly be ^^ the
man of the situation." '

Canalis and Maxime rejoined the group just as Giraud,
deputy of the Centre-Left, delivered himself of this
verdict. Maxime took Giraud by the arm and drew
him away, probably to give the same confidences that
Canalis had received.

' What an honest, worthy fellow he is ! ' said Leon,
indicating Giraud.

* That kind of honesty is the ruin of a government,'
replied Canalis.

' Is he a good speaker in your opinion ? '

' Yes and no,* said Canalis* ' He is wordy and prosy.

He is a plodding reasoner, a good logician ; but he does

not comprehend the wider logic — the logic of events

and of affairs — for which reason he has not and never

will have " the ear of the House " '

Canalis was in the midst of his summing-up when the
subject of his remarks came towards them with Maxime ;
and, forgetting that there was a stranger present whose

6o The Unconscious Mummers

discretion was not so certain as Leon's or Bixiou's, he
took Canalis's hand significantly*

'Very good,* said he, *I agree to M. Ic Comte de
Trailles's proposals. I will ask the question, but it will
be pressed hard.'

' Then we shall have the House with us on the ques-
tion, for a man of your capacity and eloquence '^ always
has the ear of the House," ' returned Canalis. * I will
undertake to crush you and no mistake.'

' You very likely will bring about a change of ministry,
for on such ground you can do anything you like with
the House, and you will be ''the man of the situa-
tion " '

' Maxime has hocussed them both,' said Leon, turning
to his cousin. ' That fine fellow is as much at home in
parliamentary intrigue as a fish in water.'

' Who is he ? ' asked Gazonal.

' He was a scamp ; he is in a fair way to be an am-
bassador,' answered Bixiou.

' Giraud,' said Leon, ' do not go until you have asked
Rastignac to say something, as he promised me he
would, about a lawsuit that will come up for decision
before you the day after to-morrow ; it affects my
cousin here. I will come round to-morrow morning to
see you about it.' And the three friends followed the
three politicians, at a certain distance, to the Salle des
Pas Perdus.

'Now, cousin, look at the two yonder,' said Leon,
pointing out a retired and very famous Minister and the
leader of the Left Centre, ' those are two speakers that
alwa)rs "have the ear of the House"; they have been
called in joke the leaders of His Majesty's Opposition ;
they have the ear of the House, so much so indeed that
they very often pull it.*

' It is four o'clock. Let us go back to the Rue de
Berlin,' said Bixiou.

' Yes. You have just seen the heart of the Govern-

The Unconscious Mummers 6i

ment ; now you ought to see the parasites and ascarides,
the tapeworm, or, since one must call him by his name —
the Republican.'

The friends were no sooner packed into their cab
than Gazonal looked maliciously at his cousin and Bixiou ;
there was a pent-up flood of southern and splenetic
oratory within him,

* I had my suspicions before of this great jade of a
city/ he burst out in his thick southern accent, 'but
after this morning I despise it. The poor country
district, for so shabby as she is, is an honest girl ; but
Paris is a prostitute, rapacious, deceitful, artificial, and I
am very glad to escape with my skin *

' The day is not over yet,* Bixiou said sententiously,
with a wink at Leon.

' And why complain like a fool of a so-called prostitu-
tion by which you will gain your case ? ' added Leon.
' Do you think yourself a better man, less hypocritical
than we are, less rapacious, less ready to make a descent
of any sort, less taken up with vanity than all those
whom we have set dancing like marionettes ? '

* Try to tempt me.*

*Poor fellow!' shrugged Leon. *Have you not
promised your vote and influence, as it is, to Rastignac ? '

' Yes ; because he is the only one among them that
laughed at himself.'

* Poor fellow ! * echoed Bixiou. ' And you distrust
me when I have d^me nothing but laugh ! You remind
me of a cur snapping at a tiger. — Ah, if you had but
seen us making f,ame of somebody or other. Do you
realise that we are capable of driving a sane man out of
his wits ? '

At this point they reached Leon's house. The
splendour of its furniture cut Gazonal short and put an
end to the dispute. Rather later in the day it began to
dawn upon him that Bixiou had been drawing him
out

62 The Unconscious Mummers

At half-past five, Leon de Lora was dressing for the
evening, to Gazonal's great bewilderment. He counted
up his cousin's thousand - and - one superfluities, and
admired the valet's seriousness, when * monsieur's chiro-
podist' was announced, and Publicola Masson entered
the room, bowed to Gazonal and Bixiou, set down a
little case of instruments, and took a low chair opposite
Leon. The newcomer, a little man of Hfty, bore a
certain resemblance to Marat.

^ How are things going ? ' inquired Leon, holding out
a foot, previously washed by the servant*

* Well, I am compelled to take a couple of pupils,
two young fellows that have given up surgery in despair
and taken to chiropody. They were starving, and yet
they are not without brains '

^ Oh, I was not speaking of matters pedestrian ; I was
asking after your political programme '

Masson's glance at Gazonal was more expressive than
any spoken inquiry.

' Oh ! speak out ; that is my cousin, and he is all but
one of you ; he fancies that he is a Legitimist.'

* Oh, well, we are getting on j we are getting on.
All Europe will be with us in five years' time. Switzer-
land and Italy are in full ferment, and we are ready for
the opportunity if it comes. Here, for instance, we
have fifty thousand armed men, to say nothing of two
hundred thousand penniless citizens '

' Pooh ! ' said Leon, ^ how about the fortifications ? '
' Pie crusts made to be broken,' Masson retorted.
' In the first place, we shall never allow artillery to come
within range ; and in the second, we have a little con-
trivance more effectual than all the fortifications in the
world, an invention which we owe to the doctor who
cured folk faster than all the rest of the ^^culty could kill
them while his machine was in operation.'

' What a rate you are going ! ' said Gazonal. The
sight of Publicola made his flesh creep.

The Unconscious Mummers 63

* Oh, there is no help for it. We come after Robes-
pierre and Saint-Just, to improve upon them. They
were timid, and you see what came of it — ^an emperor,
the elder branch and then the younger. The Mountain
did not prune the social tree su£5ciently.'

' Look here, you that will be consul, or tribune, or
something like it, don't forget that I have asked for your
protection any time these ten years,' said Bixiou.

^ Nothing will happen to you. We shall need jesters,
and you could take up Barere's job/

' And I ? ' queried Leon.

' Oh, you are my client j that will save you j for
genius is an odious privileged class that receives far too
much here in France. We shall be forced to demolish
a few of our great men to teach the rest the lesson that
they must be simple citizens.'

This was said with a mixture of jest and earnest that
sent a shudder through Gazonal.

' Then will there be an end of religion ? ' he
asked.

' An end of a State religion^ said Masson, laying a
stress on the two last words j * every one will have his
own belief. It is a very lucky thing that the Government
just now is protecting the convents; they are accumulating
the wealth for our Government. Everybody is con-
spiring to help us. For instance, all those who pity
the people, and bawl so much over the proletariat and
the wage-earning classes, or write against the Jesuits, or
interest themselves in the amelioration of anybody what-
soever — communists, humanitarians, philanthropists, you
understand, — all these folk are our advanced guard.
While we lay in powder they are braiding the fuse, and
the spark of circumstance will set fire to it.'

* Now, pray, what do you want for the welfare of the
country ? '

* Equality among the citizens, cheap commodities of
every kind. There shall be no starving folk on one

64 The Unconscious Mummers

hand no millionaires on the other ; no blood-suckers,
no victims — that is what we want.'

' Which is to say the maximum and the minimum ? '
queried Gazonal.

' You have said,' the other returned laconically.

' An end of manufacturers ? '

' M anu&ctures will be carried on for the benefit of the
State ; we shall all have a life interest in France. Every
man will have his rations served out as if he were on
board ship, and everybody will do the work for which
he is fitted.'

^ Good. And meanwhile, until you can cut your aris-
tocrats' heads ofF '

'I pare their nails,' said the Republican-Radical,
shutting up his case of instruments and finishing the
joke himself. Then with a very polite bow he with-
drew.

^ Is it possible ? In 1 845 ? ' cried Gazonal.

^ If we had time we could show you all the characters
of 1793 ; and you should talk with them. You have
just seen Marat. Well, we know Fouquier-Tinville,
CoUot-d'Herbois, Robespierre, Chabot, Fouche, Barras,
and even a magnificent Mme. Roland.'

' Ah, well, tragedy has not been left unrepresented on
this stage,' said Gazonal.

* It is six o'clock. We will take you to see Odry in
Les Saltimbanques this evening, but first we must call
upon Mme. Cadine, an actress, very intimate with
Massol your chairman; you must pay your court
assiduously to her to-night.'

^ As it is absolutely necessary that you should con-
ciliate this power, I will just dve you a few hints,'
added Bixiou. ^Do you employ women in your
fiictory?'

' Assuredly.'

^ That was all that I wanted to know,' said Bixiou.
^ You are not a married man, you are a great '

The Unconscious Mummers 65

* Yes,* interrupted GazonaL * You have guessed j
women are my weak point.'

*Very good. If you decide to execute a little
manceuvre which I will teach you, you shall know
something of the charm of intimacy with an actress
without spending one farthing.'

Bixiou, intent on playing a mischievous trick upon the
cautious Gazonal, had scarcely finished tracing out his
part for him, when they reached Mme. Cadine's house
in the Rue de la Victoire. But a hint was enough for
the southern brain, as will shortly be seen.

They climbed the stair of a tolerably fine house, and
discovered Jenny Cadine finishing her dinner. She was
to play in the second piece at the Gymnase. Gazonal
introduced to the power, Leon and Bixiou went aside
ostensibly to see a new piece of furniture, really to leave
the two alone together; but not before Bixiou had
whispered to her that ' this was Leon's cousin, a manu-
facturer worth millions of francs. — He wants to gain his
lawsuit against the prefect in the Council of State,' he
added, *so he wishes to win yoii first, to have Massol
on his side.'

All Paris knows Jenny Cadine's great beauty ; no one
can wonder, therefore, that Gazonal stood dumbfounded
at sight of her. She had received him almost coldly at
first, but during those few minutes that he spent alone
with her she was very gracious to him. Gazonal looked
contemptuously round at the drawing-room furniture
through the door left ajar by his fellow-conspirators, and
made a mental estimate of the contents of the dining-
room.

' How any man can leave such a woman as you in

such a dog-hole as this ! ' he began.

k ^ Ah ! there it is. It cannot be helped. Massol is
not rich. I am waiting until he is a Minister '

^ Happy man ! ' exclaimed Gazonal, heaving a sigh
from the depths of a provincial heart.

£

66 The Unconscious Mummers

^Good,' thought the actress, *I shall have new
furniture ; I can rival Carabine now.'

Leon came in. ^ Well, dear child/ he said, ^you are
coming to Carabine's this evening, are you not ? Supper
and lansquenet.'

^ Will monsieur be there ? ' Jenny asked artlessly and
sweetly.

^Yes, madame,'said Gazonal, dazzled by his rapid
success.

^ But Massol will be there too,' rejoined Bixiou.

^ Well, and what has that to do with it ? ' retorted
Jenny. * Now let us go, my treasures, I must be oiF to
my theatre.'

Gazonal handed her down to the cab that was waiting
for her at the door, and squeezed her hands so tenderly,
that Jenny wrung her fingers.

* Eh ! ' she cried, * I have not a second set.'

Once in the carriage, Gazonal tried to hug Bixiou.
^ She is hooked ! ' he cried ; *you are a most unmitigated
scoundrel ! '

^ So the women say,' returned Bixiou.

At half-past eleven, after the play, a hackney cab
brought the trio to Mile. Seraphine Sinet's abode.
Every well-known lorette either takes a pseudonym, or
somebody bestows one upon her, and Seraphine is better
known as Carabine, possibly because she never &ils to
bring down her ' pigeon.' She had come to be almost
indispensable to du Tillet the famous banker, and
member of the Left Centre, and at that time she was
living in charming rooms in the Rue Saint-Georges.
There are certain houses in Paris that seem &ted to
carry on a tradition ; this particular house had already
seen seven reigns of courtesans. A stockbroker had
installed Suzanne de Val-Noble in it somewhere about the
year 1827. The notorious Esther had here driven the
fearon de Nucingen to commit the only follies of his life.
Here Florine, and she whom some fiicetiously call the

The Unconscious Mummers 67

^ late Madame Schontz/ had shone in turn, and finally
when du Tillet tired of his wife he had taken the little
modern house and established Carabine in it; her
lively wit, her oiFhand manners, her brilliant shameless-
ness provided him with a counterpoise for the cares of
life, domestic, public, and financial.

Ten covers were always laid ; dinner was served (and
splendidly) whether du Tillet and Carabine were at home
or no. Artists, men of letters, journalists, and fre-
quenters of the house dined there, and there was play of
an evening. More than one member of the Chamber
came hither to seek the pleasure that is paid for in Paris
by its weight in gold. A few feminine eccentrics,
certain falling stars of doubtful significance that sparkle
in the Parisian firmament, appeared here in all the
splendour of their toilettes. The conversation was
good, for talk was unrestrained, and anything might be
said and was said. Carabine, a rival of the no less
celebrated Malaga, had fallen heir as it were to several
salons; the coteries belonging to Florine (now Mme.
Nathan), TuUia (afterwards Comtesse du Bruel), and
Madame Schontz (who became the wife of President du
Ronceret) had all rallied to Carabine.

Gazonal made but one remark as he came in, but his
observation was both legitimate and Legitimist — ^It is
finer than the Tuileries,' said he ; and, indeed, his pro-
vincial eyes found so much employment with satins,
velvets, brocades, and gilding, that he did not see Jenny
Cadine in a dress that commanded respect, hidden behind
Carabine. She was taking mental notes of her litigant's
entry while she chatted with her hostess.

'This is my cousin, my dear,' said Leon, addressing
Carabine ; ' he is a manu&cturer ; he dropped in upon
me this morning from the Pyrenees. He knows nothing
as yet of Paris ; he wants Massol's help in a case that has
gone up to the Council of State ; so we have taken the
liberty of bringing him here to supper, beseeching you

68 The Unconscious Miunmers

at the same time to leave him in fiiU possession of his

faculties *

^ As he pleases ; wine is dear,' said Carabine, scanning
the provincial, who struck her as in no wise remark-
able.

As for Gazonal, dazzled by the women's dresses, the
lights, the gilding, and the chatter of various groups, all
concerned, as he supposed, with him and his affairs, he
could only stammer out incoherent words.

* Madame — madame — you are — you are very kind.'

^ What do you manufacture ? ' asked the mistress of
the house, smiling at him.

^Say lace,' prompted Bixiou in a whisper, *and offer
her pillow-lace or guipures.'

c p.p.pill '

^ Pills!' said Carabine. *I say, Cadine, child, you
have been taken in.'

*Lace,' Gazonal got out, comprehending that he
must pay for his supper. ^ It will give me the greatest
pleasure to offer you — er — 3, dress — a scarf — a mantilla
of my own manufacture.'

' What, three things ! Well, well, you are nicer than
you look,' returned Carabine.

^ Paris has caught me,' said Gazonal to himself, as he
caught sight of Jenny Cadine, and went to pay his
respects to her.

^ And what should / have ? ' asked the actress.

* Why, my whole fortune ! ' cried Gazonal, shrewdly
of the opinion that to offer all was to offier nothing.

Massol, Claude Vignon, du Tillet, Maxime de
Trailles, Nucingen, Du Bruel, Malaga, M. and Mme.
Gaillard, Vauvinet, and a host of others crowded in.

In the course of conversation, Massol and Gazonal
went to the bottom of the dispute ; the former, without
committing himself, remarked that the report was not
yet drawn up, and that citizens might put confidence in
the lights and the independent opinion of the Council of

The Unconscious Mummers 69

State. After this cut-and-dried response, Gazonal,
losing hope, judged it necessary to win over the charm-
ing Jenny Cadine, with whom he fell head over ears in
love. Leon de Lora and Bixiou left their victim in the
clutches of the most mischief-loving woman in their
singular set, for Jenny Cadine was the famous Dejazet's
sole rival.

At the supper-table Gazonal was &scinated by the
work of Froment Meurice, the modern Benvenuto
Cellini — by costly plate, with contents worth the in-
terest on the wrought silver that held them. The two
perpetrators of the hoax had taken care to sit as (slt
away ftom him as possible ; but furtively they watched
the wily actress's progress. Ensnared by that insidious
hint of new furniture, she had set herself to carry
Gazonal home with her ; and never did lamb in the
Fete-Dieu procession submit to be led by his St John the
Baptist with a better grace than Gazonal showed in his
obedience to this siren.

Three days afterwards, Leon and Bixiou having
meanwhile seen and heard nothing of their friend,
repaired to his lodging about two o'clock in the after-
noon.

^Well, cousin, the decision has been given in your
favour.'

* Alas ! it makes no difference now, cousin,' Gazonal
answered, turning his melancholy eyes upon them ; ^ I
have turned Republican again.'

* ^uesaco? ' asked Leon.

*I have nothing left, not even enough to pay my
counsel. Mme. Jenny Cadine holds bills of mine for
more than I am worth '

* It is a &ct that Cadine is rather expensive, but-

* Oh ! I have had my money's worth. Ah ! what a
woman ! After all, Paris is too much for a provincial.
I am about to retire to La Trappe.'

*Good,' said Bixiou. *Now you talk sensibly.

70 The Unconscious Mummers

Here, acknowledge the sovereign power of the
capital '

^ And of capital ! ' cried Leon, holding out Gazonal's
bills.

Gazonal stared at the papers in bewilderment.

^ You cannot say that we have no notion of hospi-
tality ; we have educated you, rescued you from want,
treated you, and — ^amused you,' said Bixiou.

^ And nothing to pay ! ' added Leon, with the gesture
by which a street-boy conveys the idea that somebody
has been successfully ^ done.'

Paris, Nwemher 1 845.

A PRINCE OF BOHEMIA

TO HENRI HEINE

/ inscribe this to youj my dear Heine^ to you
that represent in Paris the ideas and poetry of
Germany^ in Germany the lively and witty critt-
cism of France ; for you better than any other will
know whatsoever this Study may contain of criti-
cism and of jest y of love and truth.

De Balzac.

^ My dear friend/ said Mme. de la Baudraye, drawing a
pile of manuscript from beneath her sofa cushion, ^ will
you pardon me in our present straits for making a
short story of something which you told me a few
weeks ago ? '

* Anything is fair in these times. Have you not seen
writers serving up their own hearts to the public, or
very often their mistresses' hearts when invention fails ?
We are coming to this, dear ; we shall go in quest of
adventures, not so much for the pleasure of them as for
the sake of having the story to tell afterwards.'

^ After all, you and the Marquise de Rochefide have
paid the rent, and I do not think, from the way things
are going here, that I ever pay yours.'

*Who knows. Perhaps the same good luck that
befell Mme. de Rochefide may come to you.'

^ Do you call it good luck to go back to one's
husband ? '

71

72 A Prince of Bohemia

^ No ; only great luck. Come, I am listening.'
And Mme. de Baudraye read as follows : —

^ Scene — a splendid salon in the Rue de Chartres-du-
Roule. One of the most famous writers of the day
discovered sitting on a settee beside a very illustrious
Marquise, with whom he is on such terms of intimacy,
as a man has a right to claim when a woman singles him
out and keeps him at her side as a complacent souffre-
douleur rather than a makeshift.

* Well,* says she, * have you found those letters of
which you spoke yesterday r You said that you could
not tell me all about him without them ? '

* Yes, I have them.'

^ It is your turn to speak ; I am listening like a child
when his mother begins the tale of Le Grand Serpentin
Vert:

^ I count the young man in question in that group of
our acquaintances which we are wont to style our
friends. He comes of a good family ; he is a man of
infinite parts and ill-luck, full of excellent dispositions
and most charming conversation ; young as he is, he
has seen much, and while awaiting better things, he
dwells in Bohemia. Bohemianism, which by rights
should be called the doctrine of the Boulevard des
Italiens, finds its recruits among young men between
twenty and thirty, all of them men of genius in their
way, little known, it is true, as yet, but sure of recogni-
tion one day, and when that day comes, of great
distinction. They are distinguished as it is at carnival
time, when their exuberant wit, repressed for the rest
of the year, finds a vent in more or less ingenious
buffoonery.

* What times we live in ! What an irrational central
power which allows such tremendous energies to run
to waste ! There are diplomatists in Bohemia quite

A Prince of Bohemia 73

capable of overturning Russia's designs, if they but felt
the power of France at their backs. There are writers,
administrators, soldiers, and artists in Bohemia ; every
faculty, every kind of brain is represented there. Bo-
hemia is a microcosm. If the Czar would buy Bohemia
for a score of millions and set its population down in
Odessa — always supposing that they consented to leave
the asphalt of the boulevards — Odessa would be Paris
with the year. In Bohemia, you find the flower
doomed to wither and come to nothing ; the flower of
the wonderful young manhood of France, so sought after
by Napoleon and Louis xiv., so neglected for the last
thirty years by the modern Gerontocracy that is blight-
ing everything else — that splendid young manhood of
whom a witness so little prejudiced as Professor Tissot
wrote, ** On all sides the Emperor employed a younger
generation in every way worthy of him ; in his councils,
in the general administration, in negotiations bristling
with difficulties or full of danger, in the government of
conquered countries ; and in all places Youth responded
to his demands upon it. Young men were for Napoleon
the missi dominici of Charlemagne."

* The word Bohemia tells you everything. Bohemia
has nothing and lives upon what it has. Hope is its re-
ligion; faith (in oneself) its creed ; and charity is supposed
to be its budget. All these young men are greater than
their misfortune ; they are under the feet of Fortune,
yet more than equal to Fate. Always ready to mount
and ride an if^ witty as 2l feuilleton^ blithe as only those
can be that are deep in debt and drink deep to match,
and finally — for here I come to my point — hot lovers,
and what lovers! Picture to yourself Lovelace, and
Henri Quatre, and the Regent, and Werther, and Saint-
Preux, and Rene, and the Marechal de Richelieu —
think of all these in a single man, and you will have
some idea of their way of love. What lovers ! Eclectic
of all things in love, they will serve up a passion to a

74 A Prince of Bohemia

woman's order ; their hearts are like a bill of fare in a
restaurant. Perhaps they have never read Stendhal's
De PAmoury but unconsciously they put it in practice.
They have by heart their chapters — I/Ove-Taste, Love-
Passion, Love-Caprice, Love-Crystallised, and more
than all, Love-Transient. All is good in their eyes.
They invented the burlesque axiom, ^^In the sight of
man, all women are equal." The actual text is more
vigorously worded, but as in my opinion the spirit is
&lse, I do not stand nice upon the letter.

^ My friend, madame, is named Gabriel Jean Anne
Victor Benjamin George Ferdinand Charles Edward
Rusticoli, Comte de la ralferine. The Rusticolis came
to France with Catherine dei Medici, having been
ousted about that time from their infinitesimal Tuscan
sovereignty. They are distantly related to the house of
Este, and connected by marriage with the Guises. On
the Day of Saint-Bartholomew they slew a goodly num-
ber of Protestants, and Charles ix. bestowed the hand of
the heiress of the Comte de la Palferine upon the
Rusticoli of that time. The Comte, however, being a
part of the confiscated lands of the Duke of Savoy, was
repurchased by Henri iv. when that great king so far
blundered as to restore the fief; and in exchange, the
Rusticoli — who had borne arms long before the Medici
bore them, to wit, argent a cross flory a%ure (the cross
flower-de-luced by letters patent granted by Charles ix.),
and a count's coronet, with two peasants for supporters
with the motto in hoc signo vincimus — the Rusticoli,
I repeat, retained their title, and received a couple
of offices under the crown with the government of a
province.

*From the time of the Valois till the reign of
Richelieu, as it may be called, the Rusticoli played a
most illustrious part; under Louis xiv. their glory
waned somewhat, under Louis xv. it went out alto-
gether. My friend's grandfather wasted all that was

A Prince of Bohemia 75

left to the once brilliant house with Mile. Laguerre,
whom he first discovered, and brought into fashion before
Bouret's time. Charles Edward's own father was an
officer without any fortune in 1789. The Revolution
came to his assistance ; he had the sense to drop his title,
and became plain Rusticoli. Among other deeds, M.
Rusticoli married a wife during the war in Italy, a
Capponi, a goddaughter of the Countess of Albany
(hence La Palferine's final names). Rusticoli was one of
the best colonels in the army. The Emperor made him
a commander of the Legion of Honour and a count.
His spine was slightly curved, and his son was wont
to say of him laughingly that he was un comte refait
(contrefait).

^ General Count Rusticoli, for he became a brigadier-
general at Ratisbon and a general of the division on the
held of Wagram, died at Vienna almost immediately
after his promotion, or his name and ability would
sooner or later have brought him the marshal's baton.
Under the Restoration he would certainly have repaired
the fortunes of a great and noble family so brilliant even
as far back as iioo, centuries before they took the
French title — for the Rusticoli had given a pope to
the church and twice revolutionised the kingdom of
Naples — so illustrious again under the VaTois; so
dexterous in the da3rs of the Fronde, that obstinate
Frondeurs though they were, they still existed through
the reign of Louis xiv. Mazarin favoured them ;
there was the Tuscan strain' in them still, and he re-
cognised it.

* To-day, when Charles Edward de la Palferine's
name is mentioned, not three persons in a hundred know
the history of his house. But the Bourbons have
actually left a Foix-Grailly to live by his easel.

' Ah ! if you but knew how brilliantly Charles Ed-
ward accepts his obscure position ! how he scoffs at the
bourgeois of 1830 ! What Attic salt in his wit ! He

76 A Prince of Bohemia

would be the king of Bohemia, if Bohemia would endure
a king. His verve is inexhaustible. To him we owe a
map of the country and the names of the seven castles
which Nodier could not discover.'

'The one thing wanting in one of the cleverest
skits of our time,' said the Marquise.

*You can form your own opinion of La Palferine
from a few characteristic touches,' continued Nathan.
'He once came upon a friend of his, a fellow Bohemian,
involved in a dispute on the boulevard with a bourgeois
who chose to consider himself affronted. To the
modern powers that be, Bohemia is insolent in the
extreme. There was talk of calling one another out.

' '' One moment," interposed La Palferine, as much
Lauzun for the occasion as Lauzun himself could have
been. '' One moment. Monsieur was born, I suppose ? "

'"What, sir?"

' " Yes, are you born ? What is your name ? "

'"Godin."

' " Godin, eh ! " exclaimed La Palferine's friend.

"'One moment, my dear fellow," interrupted La
Palferine. " There are the Trigaudins. Are you one
of them ? "

' Astonishment.

' " No ? Then you are one of the new dukes of
Gaeta, I suppose, of imperial creation ? No ? Oh,
well, how can you expect my friend to cross swords
with you when he will be secretary of an embassy and
ambassador some day^ and you will owe him respect ?
Godin \ the thing is non-existent ! You are a nonen-
tity, Godin. My friend cannot be expected to beat the
air ! When one is somebody, one cannot fight with a
nobody ! Come, my dear fellow — good-day."

' " My respects to Madame," added the friend.

' Another day La Palferine was walking with a friend
who flung his cigar end in the &ce of a passer-by. The
recipient had the bad taste to resent this.

'"You have stood your antagonist's fire," said the

A Prince of Bohemia 77

young County ^'the witnesses declare that honour is
satisfied."

* La Palferine owed his tailor a thousand francs, and the
man instead of going himself sent his assistant to ask for
the money. The assistant found the unfortunate debtor
up six pairs of stairs at the back of a yard at the further
end of the Faubourg du Roule. The room was unfur-
nished save for a bed (such a bed !], a table, and such a
table ! La Palferine heard the preposterous demand —
'^ A demand which I should qualify as illegal," he said
when he told us the story, ^^ made, as it was, at seven
o'clock in the morning."

***Go," he answered, with the gesture and attitude of
a Mirabeau, ^' tell your master in what condition you
find me."

'The assistant apologised and withdrew. La Pal-
ferine, seeing the young man on the landing, rose in the
attire celebrated in verse in !Britannicus to add, '^ Re-
mark the stairs ! Pay particular attention to the stairs ;
do not forget to tell him about the stairs ! "

' In every position into which chance has thrown La
Palferine, he has never &iled to rise to the occasion.
All that he does is witty and never in bad taste ; always
and in everything he displays the genius of Rivarol, the
polished subtlety of the old French noble. It was he
who told that delicious anecdote of a friend of Laffitte
the banker. A national fund had been started to give
back to Laffitte the mansion in which the Revolu-
tion of 1830 was brewed; and this friend appeared at
the offices of the fund with, ** Here are five francs, give
me a hundred sous change ! " — A caricature was made
of it. — It was once La Palferine*s misfortune, in judicial
style, to make a young girl a mother. The girl, not a
very simple innocent, confessed all to her mother, a
respectable matron, who hurried forthwith to La
Palferine and asked what he meant to do.

* ** Why, madam," said he, ** I am neither a surgeon
.nor a midwife."

78 A Prince of Bohemia

^She collapsed, but three or four years later she
returned to the charge, still persisting in her inquiry,
" What did La Palferine mean to do ? ^

*"Well, madam," returned he, "when the child is
seven years old, an age at which a t>oy ought to pass out
of women's hands " — an indication of entire agreement
on the mother's part — " if the child is really mine " —
another gesture of assent — ^^ if there is a striking like-
ness, if he bids fair to be a gentleman, if I can recognise
in him my turn of mind, and more particularly the
Rusticoli air ; then, oh — ah ! " — a new movement from
the matron — '^ on mv word and honour, I will make him
a cornet of — ^sugar-plums ! "

^ All this, if you will permit me to make use of the
phraseology employed by M. Sainte-Beuve for his
biographies of obscurities — ^all this, I repeat, is the play-
ful and sprightly yet already somewhat decadent side of
a strong race. It smacks rather of the Parc-aux-Cerfs
than of the Hotel de Rambouillet. It is a race of the
strong rather than of the sweet ; I incline to lay a little
debauchery to its charge, and more than I should wish
in brilliant and generous natures; it is gallantry after
the &shion of the Marechal de Richelieu, high spirits
and frolic carried rather too far ; perhaps we may see in
it the outrances of another age, the Eighteenth Century
pushed to extremes ; it harks back to the Musketeers ;
it is an exploit stolen from Champcenetz ; nay, such
light-hearted inconstancy takes us back to the festooned
and ornate period of the old court of the Valois. In an
age as moral as the present, we are bound to regard
audacity of this kind sternly ; still, at the same time
that " cornet of sugar-plums " may serve to warn young
girls of the perils of lingering where fancies, more
charming than chastened, come thickly from the first ;
on the rosy flowery unguarded slopes, where trespasses
ripen into errors ftiU of equivocal effervescence, into
too palpitating issues. The anecdote puts La Palferine's

A Prince of Bohemia 79

fenius before you in all its vivacity and completeness.
[e realises Pascal's entre-deuXyShe comprehends the whole
scale between tenderness and pitilessness, and, like
Epaminondas, he is equally great in extremes. And
no merely so, his epigram stamps the epoch ; the
accoucheur is a modern innovation. All the refinements
of modern civilisation are summed up in the phrase.
It is monumental.'

^ Look here, my dear Nathan, what ferrago of non-
sense is this ? ' asked the Marquise in bewilderment.

^ Madame la Marquise,' returned Nathan, ^ you do
not know the value of these ^^ precious " phrases ; I am
talking Sainte-Beuve, the new kind of French. — I
resume. Walking one day arm in arm with a friend
along the boulevard, he was accosted by a ferocious
creditor, who inquired —

* ** Are you thinking of me, sir ? "

* " Not the least in the world," answered the Count.

^ Remark the difficulty of the position. Talleyrand,
in similar circumstances, had already replied, ^^ You are
very inquisitive, my dear fellow!" To imitate the
inimitable great man was out of the question. — La
Palferine, generous as Buckingham, could not bear to
be caught empty-handed. One day when he had
nothing to give a little Savoyard chimney-sweeper,
he dipped a hand into a barrel of grapes in a grocer's
doorway and filled the child's cap from it. The little
one ate away at his grapes ; the grocer began by laugh-
ing, and ended by holding out his hand.

' " Oh, fie ! monsieur," said La Palferine, " your left
hand ought not to know what my right hand doth."

* With his adventurous courage, he never refuses any
odds, but there is wit in his bravado. In the Passage de
I'Opera he chanced to meet a man who had spoken
slightingly of him, elbowed him as he passed, and then
turned and jostled him a second time.

* ** You are very clumsy ! "

8o A Prince of Bohemia

^ ^^ On the contrary ; I did it on purpose."

^ The young man pulled out his card. La Palferine
dropped it. ^^ It has been carried too long in the
pocket. Be good enough to give me another.

^On the ground he received a thrust; blood was
drawn ; his antagonist wished to stop.

' ** You are wounded, monsieiu* ! '*

^ ^^ I disallow the hotu^^ said La Palferine, as coolly as
if he had been in the fencing saloon ; then as he riposted,
(sending the point home this time), he added, '^ There
is the right thrust, monsieur ! "

^ His antagonist kept his bed for six months.

^ This, still following on M. Sainte-Beuve's tracks,
recalls the raffinesj the fine-edged raillery of the best
days of the monarchy. In this speech you discern an
untrammelled but drifting life ; a gaiety of imagination
that deserts us when our first youth is past. The prime
of the blossom is over, but there remains the dry com-
pact seed with the germs of life in it, ready against the
coming winter. Do you not see that these things are
symptoms of somethmg unsatisfied, of an unrest im-
possible to analyse, still less to describe, yet not incom-
prehensible ; a something ready to break out if occasion
calls into flying upleaping flame ? It is the accidia of
the cloister ; a trace of sourness, of ferment engendered
by the enforced stagnation of youthful energies, a vague,
obscure melancholy.'

^ That will do,' said the Marquise ; ^ you are giving
me a mental shower bath.'

^It is the early afternoon languor. If a man has
nothing to do, he will sooner get into mischief than do
nothing at all ; this invariably happens in France.
Youth at the present day has two sides to it; the
studious or unappreciated, and the ardent or passionniJ

' That will do ! ' repeated Mme. de Rochefide, with
an authoritative gesture. ^You are setting my nerves
on edge.'

A Prince of Bohemia 8i

* To finish my portrait of La Palferine, I hasten to
make the plunge into the gallant regions of his char-
acter, or you will not understand the peculiar genius of
an admirable representative of a certain section of mis-
chievous youth — youth strong enough, be it said, to laugh
at the position in which it is put by those in power ;
shrewd enough to do no work, since work profiteth
nothing, yet so full of life that it fastens upon pleasure
— the one thing that cannot be taken away. And
meanwhile a bourgeois, mercantile, and bigoted policy
continues to cut off all the sluices through which so
much aptitude and ability would find an outlet. Poets
and men of science are not wanted.

* To give you an idea of the stupidity of the new
court, I will tell you of something which happened to
La Palferine. There is a sort of relieving officer on the
civil list. This functionary one day discovered that La
Palferine was in dire distress, drew up a report no
doubt, and brought the descendant of the Rusticolis
fifty francs by way of alms. La Palferine received the
visitor with perfect courtesy, and talked of various
persons at court.

* " Is it true," he asked, " that Mile. d'Orleans con-
tributes such and such a sum to this benevolent scheme
started by her nephew? If so, it is very gracious of
her/'

* Now La Palferine had a servant, a little Savoyard
aged ten, who waited on him without wages. La Pal-
ferine called him Father Anchises, and used to say, ^^ I
have never seen such a mixture of besotted foolishness
with great intelligence j he would go through fire
and water for me j he understands everything — and yet
he cannot grasp the fact that I can do nothing for him."

* Anchises was despatched to a livery stable with
instructions to hire a handsome brougham with a man
in livery behind it. By the time the carriage arrived
below, La Palferine had skilfully piloted the conversation

F

82 A Prince of Bohemia

to the subject of the functions of his visitor, whom he
has since called ^^the unmitigated misery man,'' and
learned the nature of his duties and his stipend.

^ ^^ Do they allow you a carriage to go about the
town in this way ? "

*«Oh! no."

^ At that La Palferine and a friend who happened to
be with him went downstairs with the poor soul, and
insisted on putting him into the carriage. It was rain-
ing in torrents. La Palferine had thought of every thing.
He offered to drive the official to the next house on his
list ; and when the almoner came down again, he found
the carriage waiting for him at the door. The man in
livery handed him a note written in pencil : —

' " The carriage has been engaged for three days.
Count Rusticoli de la Palferine is too happy to associate
himself with Court charities by lending wmgs to Royal
beneficence."

^ La Palferine now calls the civil list the uncivil list.

* He was once passionately loved by a lady of some-
what light conduct. Antonia lived in the Rue du
Helder ; she had seen and been seen to some extent, but
at the time of her acquaintance with La Palferine she
had not yet "an establishment." Antonia was not
wanting in the insolence of old days, now degenerating
into rudeness among women of her class. After a fort-
night of unmixed bliss, she was compelled, in the interest
of her civil list, to return to a less exclusive system ; and
La Palferine, discovering a certain lack of sincerity in
her dealings with him, sent Madam Antonia a note
which made her famous.

* " Madame, — Your conduct causes me much surprise
and no less distress. Not content with rending my heart
with your disdain, you have been so little thoughtful as
to retain a toothbrush, which my means will not permit

A Prince of Bohemia 83

me to replace, my estates being mortgaged beyond their
value.

' " Adieu, too fair and too ungrateful friend ! May we
meet again in a better world.

* " Charles Edward."

' Assuredly (to avail ourselves yet further of Sainte-
Beuve's Babylonish dialect), this hr outpasses the
raillery of Sterne's Sentimental Journey ; it might be
Scarron without his grossness. Nay, I do not know
but that Moliere in his lighter mood would not have
said of it, as of Cyrano de Bergerac's best — " This is
mine." Richelieu himself was not more complete when
he wrote to the princess waiting for him in the Palais
Royal — ** Stay there, my queen, to charm the scullion
lads." At the same time, Charles Edward's humour is
less biting. I am not sure that this kind of wit was
known among the Greeks and Romans. Plato, possibly,
upon a closer inspection, approaches it, but from the
austere and musical side '

* No more of that jargon,' the Marquise broke in, * in
print it may be endurable ; but to have it grating upon
my ears is a punishment which I do not in the least
deserve.'

* He first met Claudine on this wise,' continued
Nathan. * It was one of the unfilled days, when Youth
is a burden to itself; days when Youth, reduced by the
overweening presumption of Age to a condition of
potential energy and dejection, emerges therefrom (like
Blondet under the Restoration), either to get into mis-
chief or to set about some colossal piece of buffoonery,
half excused by the very audacity of its conception. La
Palferine was sauntering, cane in hand, up and down the
pavement between the Rue de Grammont and the Rue
de Richelieu, when in the distance he descried a woman
too elegantly dressed, covered, as he phrased it, with a
great deal of portable property, too expensive and too

84 A Prinoe of Boheaua

cafcktf hr worn for its owner to be otker tkm a princess
of die Court or of die stage, it was not cuf at first to
saf which. But after Julj 1830, in kis o|minnj there
if no mistaking the iiidicatioos---the princess cut onlj
be a princess of the stage.

' The Count came up and walked by her side as if she
had given him an assignation. He followed her with a
courteous persif tence, a persistence in good taste, giving
the lady from time to time, and alwajs at the right
moment, an autboriuti ve glance, which compdled her to
submit to bis escort. Anjbodjr but La PalAerine would
have been frozen by hb reception, and disconcerted
by the lady's first efforts to rid herself of her cavalier, by
her chilly air, her curt speeches ; but no gravity, with
all the will in the world, could hold out k>ng against La
Palferine's jesting replies. The fair stranger went into
her milliner's shop. Charles Edward followed, took a
seat, and gave his opinions and advice like a man that
meant to pay. This coolness disturbed the lady, she
went out.

^ On the stairs she spoke to her persecutor.

^ ^^ Monsieur, I am about to call upon one of my hus-
band's relatives, an elderly lady, Mme. de Bonialot '

^ ^^ Ah ! Mme. de Bonfalot, charmed, I am sure. I
am going there."

^ The pair accordingly went. Charles Edward came
in with the lady, every one believed that she had brought
him with her. He took part in the conversation, was
lavish of his polished and brilliant wit. The visit
lengthened out. This was not what he wanted.

< << Madame," he said, addressing the fair stranger, ^^ do
not forget that your husband is waiting for us, and only
allowed us a quarter of an hour."

^ Taken aback by such boldness (which, as you know,
is never displeasing to you women), led captive by the
conqueror's glance, by the astute yet candid air which
Charles Edward can assume when he chooses, the lady

A Prince of Bohemia 85

rose, took the arm of her self-constituted escort, and
went downstairs, but on the threshold she stopped to
speak to him.

* " Monsieur, I like a joke ^"

« " And so do I."

^ She laughed.

* " But this may turn to earnest," he added ; " it only
rests with you. I am the Comte de la Palferine, and I
am delighted that it is in my power to lay my heart and
my fortune at your feet."

^ La Palferine was at that time twenty-two years old.
(This happened in 1834.) Luckily for him, he was
^hionably dressed. I can paint his portrait for you in
a few words. He was the living image of Louis xiii.,
with the same white forehead and gracious outline of
the temples, the same olive skin (that Italian olive tint
which turns white where the light falls on it), the
brown hair worn rather long, the black " royale," the
grave and melancholy expression, for La Palferine's
character and exterior were amazingly at variance.

^ At the sound of the name, and the sight of its owner,
something like a quiver thrilled through Claudine. La
Palferine saw the vibration, and shot a glance at her
out of the dark depths of almond-shaped eyes with
purpled lids, and those faint lines about them which tell
of pleasures as costly as painful fatigue. With those
eyes upon her, she said — '* Your address ? "

< " What want of address ! "

* " Oh, pshaw ! " she said, smiling. " A bird on the
bough ? "

**' Good-bye, madame, you are such a woman as I
seek, but my fortune is ftir from equalling my desire "

* He bowed, and there and then left her. Two days
later, by one of the strange chances that can only happen
in Paris, he had betaken himself to a money-lending
wardrobe dealer to sell such of his clothing as he could
spare* He was just receiving the price with an uneasy

86 A Prince of Bohemia

air, after long chaffering, when the stranger lady passed
and recognised him.

*"Once for all," cried he to the bewildered ward-
robe dealer, ^^ I itell you, I am not going to take your
trumpet ! "

^ He pointed to a huge, much-dinted musical instru-
ment, hanging up outside against a background of
uniforms, civil and military* Then, proudly and im-
petuously, he followed the lady.

* From that great day of the trumpet these two under-
stood one another to admiration. Charles Edward's
ideas on the subject of love are as sound as possible.
According to him, a man cannot love twice, there is but
one love in his lifetime, but that love is a deep and
shoreless sea. It may break in upon him at any
time, as the grace of God found St. Paul ^ and a man
may live sixty years and never know love. Perhaps,
to quote Heine's superb phrase, it is ** the secret malady
of the heart" — a sense of the Infinite that there is
within us, together with the revelation of the ideal
Beauty in its visible form. This Love, in short, com-
prehends both the creature and creation. But so long
as there is no question of this great poetical conception,
the loves that cannot last can only be taken lightly,
as if they were in a manner snatches of song compared
with Love the epic.

* To Charles Edward the adventure brought neither
the thunderbolt signal of love's coming, nor yet that
gradual revelation of an inward fairness which draws
two natures by degrees more and more strongly each to
each. For there are but two ways of love — love at first
sight, doubtless akin to the Highland ^Second sight,"
and that slow fusion of two natures which realises
Plato's ** man- woman." But if Charles Edward did not
love, he was loved to distraction. Claudine found love
made complete, body and soul ; in her, in short. La Pal-
ferine awakened the one passion of her life; while

A Prince of Bohemia 87

for him Claudine was only a most charming mistress.
The Devil himself, a most potent magician certainly,
with all hell at his back, could never have changed the
natures of these two unequal fires, I dare affirm that
Claudine not unfrequently bored Charles Edward.'

* " Stale fish and the woman you do not love are only
fit to fling out of the window after three days,'* he
used to say.

* In Bohemia there is little secrecy observed over these
affairs. La Palferine used to talk a good deal of Claudine ;
but, at the same time, none of us saw her, nor so much
as knew her name. For us Claudine was almost a
mythical personage. All of us acted in the same way,
reconciling the requirements of our common life with
the rules of good taste. Claudine, Hortense, the
Baroness, the Bourgeoise, the Empress, the Spaniard,
the Lioness, — these were cryptic titles which permitted
us to pour out our joys, our cares, vexations, and hopes,
and to communicate our discoveries. Further, none of
us went. It has been known, in Bohemia, that chance
discovered the identity of the fair unknown ; and at
once, as by tacit convention, not one of us spoke of her
again. This fact may show how far youth possesses a
sense of true delicacy. How admirably certain natures
of a finer clay know the limit line where jest must end,
and all that host of things French covered by the slang
word blague^ 3, word which will shortly be cast out of
the language (let us hope), and yet it is the only one
which conveys an idea of the spirit of Bohemia.

^So we often used to joke about Claudine and the
Count — " What are you making of Claudine ? " —
" How is Claudine ? " — ** Toujours Claudine ? " sung to
the air of Toujours Gessler.^

* " I wish you all such a mistress, for all the harm I
wish you," La Palferine began one day. "No grey-
bound, no basset-dog, no poodle can match her in
gentleness, submissiveness, and complete tenderntss.

88 A Prince of Bohemia

There are times when I reproach myself, when I take
mvself to task for my hard heart. Claudine obeys with
saintly sweetness. She comes to me, I tell her to go,
she goes, she does not even cry till she is out in the
courtyard. I refuse to see her for a whole week at a time.
I tell her to come at such an hour on Tuesday ; and be
it midnight or six o'clock in the morning, ten o'clock,
five o'clock, breakfast time, dinner time, bed time, any
particularly inconvenient hour in the day — ^she will
come, punctual to the minute, beautiful, beautifully
dressed, and enchanting. And she is a married woman,
with all the complications and duties of a household.
The fibs that she must invent, the reasons she must find
for conforming to niy whims would tax the ingenuity of
some of us ! . . . Claudine never wearies ; you can
always count upon her. It is not love, I tell her, it is
in&tuation. She writes to me every day ; I do not read
her letters ; she found that out, but still she writes. See
here ; there are two hundred letters in this casket. She
begs me to wipe my razors on one of her letters every
day, and I punctually do so. She thinks, and rightly,
that the sight of her handwriting will put me in mind of
her."

^ La Palferine was dressing as he told us this. I took
up the letter which he was about to put to this use, read
it, and kept it, as he did not ask to have it back. Here
it is. I looked for it, and found it as I promised.

*' Monday {MUnigAt),

* *^ Well, my dear, are you satisfied with me ? I did
not even ask for your hand, yet you might easily have
given it to me, and I longed so much to hold it to my
heart, to my lips. No, I did not ask, I am so afraid of
displeasing you. Do you know one thing ? Though
I am cruelly sure that anything I do is a matter of
perfect indifference to you, I am none the less extremely
timid in my conduct : the woman that belongs to you^

A Prince of Bohemia 89

whatever her title to call herself yours, must not incur
so much as the shadow of blame. In so far as love
comes from the angels in heaven, from whom there are
no secrets hid, my love is as pure as the purest ; wher-
ever I am I feel that I am in your presence, and I try
to do you honour.

'"All that you said about my manner of dress impressed
me very much ; I began to understand how far above
others are those that come of a noble race. There was
still something of the opera girl in my gowns, in my
way of dressing my hair. In a moment I saw the dis-
tance between me and good taste. Next time you shall
receive a duchess, you shall not know me again ! Ah !
how good you have been to your Claudine ! How many
and many a time I have thanked you for telling me
these things ! What interest lay in those few words !
You had taken thought for that thing belonging to
you called Claudine ? This imbecile would never have
opened my eyes ; he thinks that everything I do is right ;
and besides, he is much too humdrum, too matter-of-
&ct to have any feeling for the beautiful.

*" Tuesday is very slow of coming for my impatient
mind ! On Tuesday I shall be with you for several
hours. Ah ! when it comes I will try to think that the
hours are months, that it will be so always. I am living
in hope of that morning now, as I shall live upon the
memory of it afterwards. Hope is memory that craves ;
and recollection, memory sated. What a beautiful life
within life thought makes for us in this way !

* "Sometimes I dream of inventing new ways of ten-
derness all my own, a secret which no other woman
shall guess. A cold sweat breaks out over me at the
thought that something may happen to prevent this
meeting. Oh, I would break with him for good, if
need was, but nothing here could possibly interfere ; it
would be from your side. Perhaps you may decide to
go out, perhaps to go to see some other woman. Oh !

90 A Prince of Bohemia

spare me this Tuesday for pity's sake. If you take it
from me, Charles, you do not know what he will suffer ;
I should drive him wild. But even if you do not want
me, if you are going out, let me come, all the same, to be
with you while you dress ; only to see you, I ask no more
than that ; only to show you that I love you without a
thought of self.

*** Since you gave me leave to love you, for you gave
me leave, since I am yours ; since that day I loved and
love you with the whole strength of my soul ; and I
shall love you for ever, for once having loved youy no
one could, no one ought to love another. And, you see,
when those eyes that ask nothing but to see you are
upon you, you will feel that in your Claudine there is a
something divine, called into existence by you.

* " Alas ! with you I can never play the coquette. I
am like a mother with her child ; I endure anything
from you ; I, that was once so imperious and proud. I
have made dukes and princes fetch and carry for me ;
aides de camp, worth more than all the court of Charles x.
put together, have done my errands, yet I am treating
you as my spoilt child. But where is the use of
coquetry ? It would be pure waste. And yet, mon-
sieur, for want of coquetry I shall never inspire love in
you. I know it j I feel it ; yet I do as before, feeling a
power that I cannot withstand, thinking that this utter
self-surrender will win me the sentiment innate in all
men (so he tells me) for the thing that belongs to
them,

" Wednesday,

* *^ Ah ! how darkly sadness entered my heart yester-
day when I found that I must give up the joy of seeing
you. One single thought held me back from the arms
of Death ! — It was thy will ! To stay away was to do
thy will, to obey an order from thee. Oh ! Charles, I
was so pretty ; I looked a lovelier woman for you than

A Prince of Bohemia 91

that beautiful German princess whom you gave me for
an example, whom I have studied at the Opera. And
yet — you might have thought that I had overstepped the
limits of my nature. You have left me no confidence
in myself; perhaps I am plain after all. Oh ! I loathe
myself, I dream of my radiant Charles Edward, and.
my brain turns. I shall go mad, I know I shall. Do
not laugh, do not talk to me of the fickleness of women.
If we are inconstant, you are strangely capricious. You
take away the hours of love that made a poor creature's
happiness for ten whole days ; the hours on which she
drew to be charming and kind to all that came to see
her ! After all, you were the source of my kindness to
him-y you do not know what pain you give him. I
wonder what I must do to keep you, or simply to keep
the right to be yours sometimes. . . . When I think
that you never would come here to me ! . . . With what
delicious emotion I would wait upon you ! — There are
other women more favoured than I. There are women
to whom you say, *I love you.' To me you have
never said more than * You are a good girl.' Certain
speeches of yours, though you do not know it, gnaw
at my heart. Clever men sometimes ask me what I am
thinking. ... I am thinking of my self-abasement — the
prostration of the poorest outcast in the presence of the
Saviour."

' There are still three more pages, you see. La Pal-
ferine allowed me to take the letter, with the traces of
tears that still seemed hot upon it ! Here was proof
of the truth of his story. Marcas, a shy man enough
with women, was in ecstasies over a second which he read
in his corner before lighting his pipe with it,

*" Why, any woman in love will write that sort of
thing ! " cried La Palferine. " Love gives all women
intelligence and style, which proves that here in France
style proceeds from the matter and not from the words.

92 A Prince of Bohemia

See now bow well this is thought out, how dear-headed
sentiment is " — and with that he read us another letter,
hr superior to the artificial and laboured productions
which we novelists write.

^ One day poor Claudine heard that La Palferine was
in a critical position ; it was a question of meeting a bill
of exchange. An unlucky idea occurred to her ; she put
a tolerably large sum in gold into an exquisitely em-
broidered purse and went to him.

<<< Who has taught you to be so bold as to meddle
with my household affairs ? " La Palferine cried angrily.
^^Mend my socks and work slippers for me, if it amuses

you. So ! you will play the duchess, and you turn

the story of Danae against the aristocracy."

^ He emptied the purse into his hand as he spoke, and
made as though he would fling the money in her face.
Claudine, in her terror, did not guess that he was joking ;
she shrank back, stumbled over a chair, and fell with her
head against the corner of the marble chinmey-piece.
She thought she should have died. When she could
speak, poor woman, as she lay on the bed, all that she
said was, " I deserved it, Charles ! "

^For a moment La Palferine was in despair; his
anguish revived Claudine. She rejoiced in the mishap ;
she took advantage of her suflFering to compel La Pal-
ferine to take the money and release him from an
awkward position. Then followed a variation on La
Fontaine's fable, in which a man blesses the thieves
that brought him a sudden impulse of tenderness from his
wife. And while we are upon this subject, another
saying will paint the man for you.

^Claudine went home again, made up some kind of
tale as best she could to account for her bruised fore-
bead, and fell dangerously ill. An abscess formed in the
head. The doctor — Bianchon, I believe — ^yes, it was
Bianchon — wanted to cut off her hair. The Duchesse
de Berri's hair is not more beautiful than Claudine's ;

A Prince of Bohemia 93

she would not hear of it, she told Bianchon in confidence
that she could not allow it to be cut without leave from
the Comte de la Palferine. Bianchon went to Charles
Edward. Charles Edward heard him with much
seriousness. The doctor had explained the case at length,
and showed that it was absolutely necessary to sacrifice
the hair to ensure the success of the operation.

* " Cut off Claudine's hair ! " cried he in peremptory
tones. " No. I would sooner lose her." '

^ Even now, after a lapse of four years, Bianchon still
quotes that speech ; we have laughed over it for half an
hour together. Ckudine, informed of the verdict, saw
in it a proof of affection ; she felt sure that she was
loved. In the face of her weeping family, with her
husband on his knees, she was inexorable. She kept her
hair. The strength that came with the belief that she
was loved came to her aid, the operation succeeded
perfectly. There are stirrings of the inner life which
throw all the calculations of surgery into disorder and
baffle the laws of medical science.

^ Claudine wrote a delicious letter to La Palferine, a
letter in which the orthography was doubtful and the
punctuation all to seek, to tell him of the happy result
of the operation, and to add that Love was wiser than all
the sciences.'

*"Now," said La Palferine one day, "what am I to
do to get rid of Claudine ? "

^ " Why, she is not at all troublesome ; she leaves you
master ofyour actions," objected we.

* " That is true," returned La Palferine, ** but I do not
choose that anything shall slip into my life without my
consent."

^ From that day he set himself to torment Claudine.
It seemed that he held the bourgeoise, the nobody, in
utter horror ; nothing would satisfy him but a woman
with a title. Claudine, it was true, had made progress ;
she had learned to dress as well as the best-dressed

94 A Prince of Bohemia

women of the Faubourg Saint-Germain ; she had freed
her bearing of unhallowed traces ; she walked with a
chastened, inimitable grace ; but this was not enough.
This praise of her enabled Claudine to swallow down the
rest.

* But one dajr La Palferine said, " If you wish to be
the mistress of one La Palferine, poor, penniless, and
without prospects as he is, vou ought at least to represent
him worthily. You should have a carriage and liveried
sen'ants and a title. Give me all the gratifications of
vanity that will never be mine in my own person. The
woman whom I honour with my regard ought never to
go on foot ; if she is bespattered with mud, I suffer.
That is how I am made. If she is mine, she must be
admired of all Paris. All Paris shall envy me my good
fortune. If some little whipper-snapper seeing a
brilliant countess pass in her brilliant carriage shall say
to himself, ^ Who can call such a divinity his ? ' and
grow thoughtful — why, it will double my pleasure."

^ La Palferine owned to us that he flung this pro-
gramme at Claudine*s head simply to rid himself of her.
As a result he was stupefied with astonishment for the
first and probably the only time in his life.

^^ Dear," she said, and there was a ring in her voice
that betrayed the^reat agitation which shook her whole
being, ^Mt is well. All this shall be done, or I will
die."

^ She let fall a few happy tears on his hand as she
kissed it.

*"You have told me what I must do to be your
mistress still," she added ; ^^ I am glad."

* " And then " (La Palferine told us) " she went out
with a little coquettish gesture like a woman that has
had her way. As she stood in my garret doorway, tall
and proud, she seemed to reach the stature of an antique
sibyl."

^ All this should sufficiently explain the manners and

A Prince of Bohemia 95

customs of the Bohemia in which this young condottiere
is one of the most brilliant figures/ Nathan continued
after a pause. ^ Now it so happened that I discovered
Claudine's identity, and could understand the appalling
truth of one line which you perhaps overlooked in that
letter of hers. It was on this wise.'

The Marquise, too thoughtful now for laughter, bade
Nathan * Go on,' in a tone that told him plainly how
deeply she had been impressed by these strange things,
and even more plainly how much she was interested in
La Palferine.

^In 1829, one of the most influential, steady, and
clever of dramatic writers was du Bruel. His real name
is unknown to the public, on the playbills he is de
Cursy. Under the Restoration he had a place in the
Civil Service; and being really attached to the elder
branch, he sent in his resignation bravely in 1830, and
ever since has written twice as many plays to fill the
deficit in his budget made by his noble conduct. At
that time du Bruel was forty years old ; you know the
story of his life. Like many of his brethren, he bore
a stage dancer an affection hard to explain, but well
known in the whole world of letters. The woman, as
you know, was TuUia, one of the premiers sujets of the
Academie Royale de Musique. Tullia is merely a
pseudonym like du Bruel's name of de Cursy.

* For the ten years between 181 7 and 1827 Tullia was
in her glory on the heights of the stage of the Opera.
With more beauty than education, a mediocre dancer
with rather more sense than most of her class, she took
no part in the virtuous reforms which ruined the corps de
ballet ; she continued the Guimard dynasty. She owed
her ascendency, moreover, to various well-known pro-
tectors, to the Due de Rhetore (the Due de Chaulieu's
eldest son), to the influence of a famous Superintendent
of Fine Arts, and sundry diplomatists and rich foreigners.
During her apogee she had a neat little house in the

96 A Prince of Bohemia

Rue Chauchat, and lived as Opera nymphs used to live
in the old days. Du Bruel was smitten with her about
the time when the Duke's fancy came to an end in 1823.
Being a mere subordinate in the Civil Service, du Bruel
tolerated the Superintendent of Fine Arts, believing that
he himself was really preferred. After six years this con-
nection was almost a marriage. Tullia has always been
very careful to say nothing of her family ^ we have a
vague idea that she comes from Nanterre. One of her
uncles, formerly a simple bricklayer or carpenter, is now,
it is said, a very rich contractor, thanks to her influence
and generous loans. This fact leaked out through du
Bruel. He happened to say that Tullia would inherit a
fine fortune sooner or later. The contractor was a
bachelor ; he had a weakness for the niece to whom he
is indebted.

* " He is not clever enough to be ungrateful," said she.

*In 1829 Tullia retired from the stage of her own
accord. At the age of thirty she saw that she was
growing somewhat stouter, and she had tried panto-
mime without success. Her whole art consisted in the
trick of raising her skirts, after Noblet's manner, in a
pirouette which inflated them balloon-fashion and ex-
hibited the smallest possible quantity of clothing to the
pit. The aged Vestris had told her at the very begin-
ning that this tempSj well executed by a fine woman, is
worth all the art imaginable. It is the chest-note C of
dancing. For which reason, he said, the very greatest
dancers — Camargo, Guimard, and Taglioni, all of them
thin, brown, and plain — could only redeem their physical
defects by their genius. Tullia, still in the height
of her glory, retired before younger and cleverer
dancers ; she did wisely. She was an aristocrat ;
she had scarcely stooped below the noblesse in her
liaisons ; she declined to dip her ankles in the troubled
waters of July. Insolent and beautifid as she was,
Qaudine possessed handsome souvenirs, but very little

A Prince of Bohemia 97

ready money ; still, her jewels were magnificent, and she
had as fine furniture as any one in Paris.

^ On quitting the stage when she, forgotten to-day,
was yet in the height of her fame, one thought possessed
her — ^she meant du Bruel to marry her ; and at the time
of this story, you must understand that the marriage had
taken place, but was kept a secret. How do women of
her class contrive to make a man marry them after seven
or eight years of intimacy ? What springs do they
touch ? What machinery do they set in motion ?
But, however comical such domestic dramas may be, we
are not now concerned with them. Du Bruel was
secretly married ; the thing was done.

* Cursy before his marriage was supposed to be a jolly
companion; now and again he stayed out all night,
and to some extent led the life of a Bohemian ; he
would unbend at a supper-party. He went out to all
appearance to a rehearsal at the Opera-Comique, and
found himself in some unaccountable way at Dieppe,
or Baden, or Saint-Germain ; he gave dinners, led the
Titanic diriftless life of artists, journalists, and writers ;
levied his tribute on all the greenrooms of Paris ; and,
in short, was one of us. Finot, Lousteau, du Tillet,
Desroches, Bixiou, Blondet, Couture, and des Lupeaulx
tolerated him in spite of his pedantic manner and
ponderous official attitude. But once married, Tullia
made a slave of du Bruel. There was no help for it.
He was in love with Tullia, poor devil.

*" Tullia*' (so he said) **had left the stage to be his
alone, to be a good and charming wife." And some-
bow Tullia managed to induce the most Puritanical
members of du Bruel's family to accept her. From the
very first, before any one suspected her motives, she
assiduously visited old Mme. de Bonfalot, who bored her
horribly; she made handsome presents to mean old
Mme. de Chisse, du Bruel's great-aunt; she spent a
summer with the latter lady, and never missed a single

G

98 A Prince of Bohemia

mass. She even went to confession, received absolution,
and took the sacrament ; but this, you must remember,
was in the country, and under the aunt's eyes.

^ ^^ I shall have real aunts now, do you understand ? ^
she said to us when she came back in the winter.

^She was so delighted with her respectability, so glad
to renounce her independence, that she found means to
compass her end. She flattered the old people. She
went on foot every day to sit for a couple of hours with
Mme. du Bruel the elder while that lady was ill —
a Maintenon's stratagem which amazed du Bruel. And
he admired his wife without criticism ; he was so fast in
the toik already that he did not feel his bonds.

^ Claudine succeeded in making him understand that
only under the elastic system of a bourgeois government,
only at the bourgeois court of the Citizen-King, could
a TuUia, now metamorphosed into a Mme. du Bruel, be
accepted in the society which her good sense prevented
her from attempting to enter. Mme. de Bonfidot,
Mme. de Chisse, and Mme. du Bruel received her ; she
was satisfied. She took up the position of a well-con-
ducted, simple, and virtuous woman, and never acted out
of character. In three years' time she was introduced
to the friends of these ladies.

^^^And still I cannot persuade myself that yoimg
Mme. du Bruel used to display her ankles, and the rest,
to all Paris, with the light of a hundred gas-jets
pouring upon her," Mme. Anselme Popinot remarked
naively.

*From this point of view, July 1830 inaugurated an
era not unlike the time of the Empire, when a waiting
woman was received at Court in the person of Mme.
Garat, a chief-justice's " lady." Tullia had completely
broken, as you may guess, with all her old associates ; of
her former acquaintances, she only recognised those
who could not compromise her. At the time of her
marriage she had taken a very charming little hotel

A Prince of Bohemia 99

between a court and a garden, lavishing money on
it with wild extravagance and putting the best part of
her furniture and du Bruel's into it. Everything that she
thought common or ordinary was sold. To find any-
thing comparable to her sparkling splendour, you could
only look back to the days when a Sophie Arnould, a
Guimard, or a Duthe, in all her glory, squandered the
fortunes of princes.

*How hr did this sumptuous existence affect du
Bniel? It is a delicate question to ask, and a still
more delicate one to answer. A single incident will
suffice to give you an idea of TuUia's crotchets. Her
bed-spread of Brussels lace was worth ten thousand
francs. A famous actress had another like it. As soon
as Claudine heard this, she allowed her cat, a splendid
Angora, to sleep on the bed. That trait gives you the
woman. Du Bruel dared not say a word; he was
ordered to spread abroad that challenge in luxury, so
that it might reach the other. Tullia was very fond of
this gift from the Due de Rhetore ; but one day, five
years after her marriage, she played with her cat to such
purpose that the coverlet — furbelows, flounces, and all —
was torn to shreds, and replaced by a sensible quilt, a quilt
that was a quilt, and not a symptom of the peculiar
form of insanity which drives these women to make up
by an insensate luxury for the childish days when
they lived on raw apples, to quote the expression of a
journalist. The day when the bed-spread was torn to
tatters marked a new epoch in her married life.

^Cursy was remarkable for his ferocious industry.
Nobody suspects the source to which Paris owes the
patch-and-powder eighteenth century vaudevilles that
flooded the stage. Those thousand-and-one vaudevilles,
which raised such an outcry among the feuilletonist es^
were written at Mme. du Bruel's express desire. She
insisted that her husband should purchase the hotel
on which she had spent so much, where she had

loo A Prince of Bohemia

housed five hundred thousand francs' worth of furni-
ture. Wherefore? Tullia never enters into explana-
tions; she understands the sovereign woman's reason
to admiration.

* ** People made a good deal of fun of Cursy,** said
she ; ^^ but, as a matter of fact, he found this house in
the eighteenth century rouge-box, powder, pufFs, and
spaneles. He would never have thought of it but for
me,' she added, burying herself in her cushions in her
fireside corner.

^ She delivered herself thus on her return from a first
night. Du Bruel's piece had succeeded, and she fore-
saw an avalanche of criticisms. Tullia had her At
Homes. Every Monday she ga^e a tea-party; her
society was as select as might be, and she neglected
nothing that could make her house pleasant. There
was bouillotte in one room, conversation in another,
and sometimes a concert (always short) in the large
drawing-room. None but the most eminent artists per-
formed in her house. Tullia had so much good sense,
that she attained to the most exquisite tact, and herein,
in all probability, lay the secret of her ascendency over
du Bruel ; at any rate, he loved her with the love which
use and wont at length makes indispensable to life.
Every day adds another thread to the strong, irresistible,
intangible web, which enmeshes the most delicate fancies,
takes captive every most transient mood, and binding
them together, holds a man captive hand and foot, heart
and head.

* Tullia knew Cursy well ; she knew every weak point
in his armour, knew also how to heal his wounds.

* A passion of this kind is inscrutable for any observer,
even for a man who prides himself, as I do, on a certain
expertness. It is everywhere unfathomable; the dark
depths in it are darker than in any other mystery ; the
colours confused even in the highest lights.

^ Cursy was an old playwright, jaded by the life of the

A Prince of Bohemia loi

theatrical world. He liked comfort ; he liked a luxuri-
ous, affluent, easy existence ; he enjoyed being a king in
his own house ; he liked to be host to a party of men of
letters in a hotel resplendent with royal luxury, with
carefully chosen works of art shining in the setting.
Tullia allowed du Bruel to enthrone himself amid the
tribe; there were plenty of journalists .whom it was easy
enough to catch and ensnare ; and, thanks to her evening
parties and a well-timed loan here and there, Cursy was
not attacked too seriously — his plays succeeded. For
these reasons he would not have separated from Tullia
for an empire. If she had been unfaithful, he would
probably have passed it over, on condition that none of
his accustomed joys should be retrenched ; yet, strange
to say, Tullia caused him no twinges on this account.
No fancy was laid to her charge ; if there had been any,
she certainly had been very careful of appearances.

* ** My dear fellow," du Bruel would say, laying down
the law to us on the boulevard, ^' there is nothing like
one of these women who have sown their wild oats
and got over their passions. Such women as Claudine
have lived their bachelor life ; they have been over head
and ears in pleasure, and make the most adorable
wives that could be wished ; they have nothing to learn,
they are formed, they are not in the least prudish ;
they are well broken in, and indulgent. So I strongly
recommend everybody to take the ^ remains of a racer.'
I am the most fortunate man on earth."

* Du Bruel said this to me himself with Bixiou there
to hear it.

* *' My dear fellow," said the caricaturist, " perhaps he
is right to be in the wrong."

^ About a week afterwards, du Bruel asked us to dine
with him one Tuesday. That morning I went to see
him on a piece of theatrical business, a case submitted to
us for arbitration by the commission of dramatic authors.
We were obliged to go out again ; but before we started

I

1 02 A Prince of Bohemia

he went to Claudine's room, knocked, as he alwajrs does,
and asked for leave to enter.

* " We live in the grand style,*' said he, smiling ; ** wc
are free. Each is independent."

* We were admitted. Du Bruel spoke to Claudine.
^ I have asked a few people to dinner to-day ''

* ** Just like you ! *' cried she. ** You ask people
without speaking to me; I count for nothing here. —
Now" (taking me as arbitrator by a glancel ^*I ask

ou yourself. When a man has been so foolish as to
ire with a woman of my sort ; for, after all, I was an
opera dancer — ^yes, I ought always to remember that, if
other people are to forget it — weU, under those circum-
stances, a clever man seeking to raise his wife in public
opinion would do his best to impose lier upon the world
as a remarkable woman, to justify the step he had taken
by acknowledging that in some ways she was something
more than ordinary women. The best way of compel-
ling respect from others is to pay respect to her at
home, and to leave her absolute mistress of the house.
Well, and yet it is enough to waken one's vanity to see
how frightened he is of seeming to listen to me. I
must be in the right ten times over if he concedes a
single point."

* (Emphatic negative gestures from du Bruel at every
other word.)

* ** Oh, yes, yes," she continued quickly, in answer to
this mute dissent. *' I know all about it, du Bruel, my
dear, I that have been like a queen in my house all my life
till I married you. My wishes were guessed, fulfilled, and
more than fulfilled. — After all, I am thirty-five, and at
five-and-thirty a woman cannot expect to be loved. Ah,
if I were a girl of sixteen, if I had not lost something
that is dearly bought at the Opera, what attention you
would pay me, M. du Bruel ! I feel the most supreme
contempt for men who boast that they can love and
grow careless and neglectful in little things as time

A Prince of Bohemia 103

E'ows on. You are short and insignificant, you see, du
ruel ; you love to torment a woman ; it is your only
way of showing your strength. A Napoleon is ready to
be swayed by the woman he loves ; he loses nothing by
it ; but as for such as you, you believe that you are
nothing apparently, you do not wish to be ruled. — Five-
and-thirty, my dear boy," she continued, turning to
me, **that is the clue to the riddle. — ' No,* does he say
again ? — You know quite well that I am thirty-seven.
I am very sorry, but just ask your friends to dine at the
Rocher de Cancale. I could have them here, but I will
not ; they shall not come. And then perhaps my poor
little monologue may engrave that salutary maxim,
* Each is master at home,' upon your memory. That is
our charter," she added, laughing, with a return of the
opera girl's giddiness and caprice.

* ** Well, well, my dear little puss ; there, there, never
mind. We can manage to get on together," said du
Bruel, and he kissed her hands, and we came away. But
he was very wroth.

* The whole way from the Rue de la Victoire to the
boulevard a perfect torrent of venomous words poured
from his mouth like a water&U in flood; but as the
shocking language which he used on the occasion was
quite unfit to print, the report is necessarily inade-
quate.

' ^^ My dear fellow, I will leave that vile, shameless
opera dancer, a worn-out jade that has been set spinning
like a top to every operatic air ; a foul hussy, an organ-
grinder's monkey ! Oh, my dear boy, you have taken
up with an actress ; may the notion of marrying your
mistress never get a hold on you. It is a torment
omitted from the hell of Dante, you see. Look here !
I will beat her ; I will give her a thrashing ; I Will give
it to her ! Poison of my life, she sent me off like a run-
ning footman."

* By this time we had reached the boulevard, and he

I04 A Prince of Bohemia

hdd worked himself up to such a pitch of fiiry that the
words stuck in his throat.

' " I will kick the stuffing out of her ! "

* " And why ? "

* *' My dear fellow, vou will never know the thousand-
and-one fancies that slut takes into her head. When I
want to stay at home, she, forsooth, must go out ; when
I want to go out, she wants me to stop at home ; and
she spouts out arguments and accusations and reasoning
and talks and talks till she drives you crazy. Right
means any whim that they happen to take into their
heads, and wrong means our notion. Overwhelm
them with something that cuts their arguments to
pieces — they hold their tongues and look at you as if
you were a dead dog. My happiness indeed \ I lead
the life of a yard dog ; I am a perfect slave. The little
happiness that I have with her costs me dear. Confound
it all. I will leave her everything and take myself
oiF to a garret. Yes, a garret and liberty. I have
not dared to have my own way once in these five
years."

* But instead of going to bis guests, Cursy strode up
and down the boulevard between the Rue dc Richelieu
and the Rue du Mont Blanc, indulging in the most
fearful imprecations, his unbounded language was most
comical to hear. His paroxysm of fury in the street
contrasted oddly with his peaceable demeanour in the
house. Exercise assisted him to work off his nervous
agitation and inward tempest. About two o'clock, on a
sudden frantic impulse, he exclaimed —

* *' These damned females never know what they
want. I will wager my head now that if I go home
and tell her that I have sent to ask my friends to dine
with me at the Rocher de Cafnah-y she will not be satis-
fied though she made the arrangement herself. — But
she will have gone off somewhere or other. I wonder
whether there is something at the bottom of all [his, an

\

r

A Prince of Bohemia 105

assignation with some goat f No. In the bottom of
her heart she loves me ! " '

The Marquise could not help smiling.

* Ah, madame,' said Nathan, looking keenly at her,
* only women and prophets know how to turn faith to
account. — Du Bruel would have me go home with him,'
he continued, ' and we went slowly back. It was three
o'clock. Before he appeared, he heard a stir in the
kitchen, saw preparations going forward, and glanced at
me as he asked the cook the reason of this.

***Madame ordered dinner," said the woman.
"Madame dressed and ordered a cab, and then she
changed her mind and ordered it again for the theatre
tbis evening."

'"Good," exclaimed du Bruel, ** what did I tell
you ? "

'We entered the house stealthily. No one was
there. We went from room to room until we reached
a little boudoir, and came upon Tullia in tears. She
dried her eyes without afFectation, and spoke to du
Bruel.

'"Send a note to the Recher dt CancaU" she said,
"and ask your guests to dine here."

' She was dressed as only women of the theatre can
dress, in a simply-made gown of some dainty material,
neither too cosily nor too common, graceful, and har-
monious in outline and colouring ; there was nothing con-
spicuous about her, nothing exaggerated — a word now
droppingout of use, to bereplaced by the word "artistic,"
used by fools as current coin. In short, Xullia looked
like a gentlewoman. At thirty-seven she had reached
the prime of a Frenchwoman's beauty. At this moment
the celebrated oval of her face was divinely pale ; she
had laid her hat aside ; I could see a faint down like the
Moom of fruit softening the silk contours of a cheek
itself so delicate. There was a cm about

ler brilliant

r**

io6 A Prince of Bohemia

mj ejcs were Teilcd bjr a mist of tears; her nose,
ddicately canred as a Roman cameo, with its quivering
nostrik ; her littk mouth, like a child's even now ; her
long qu^uilj throat, with the veins standing out upon
it ; her chin, flushed for the moment by some secret
despair; the pink tips of her ears, the hands that
trembled under her gloves, everything about her told of
violent feeling. The feverish twitching of her eye-
brows betrayed her pain. She looked sublime.

^ Her first words had crushed du Bruel. She looked
at us both, with that penetrating, impenetrable cat-like
rlance which only actresses and great ladies can use.
Then she held out her hand to her husband.

^^ Poor dear, you had scarcely gone before I blamed
mjrself a thousand times over. It seemed to me that I
had been horribly ungrateful ; I told myself that I had
been unkind. — Was I very unkind ? " she asked, turning
to me. — ^"Why not receive your friends? Is it not
your house ? Do you want to know the reason of it
all ? Well, I was afraid that I was not loved ; and
indeed I was halfway between repentance and the
shame of going back. I read the newspapers, and saw
that there was a first night at the Varietes, and I thought
you had meant to give the dinner to a collaborator.
Left to myself, I gave way, I dressed to hurry out after
you — poor pet**

*Du Bruel looked at me triumphantly, not a
vestige of a recollection of his orations contra Tullia in
his mind.

***Wcll, dearest, I have not spoken to any one of
them/' he said.

* " How well we understand each other ! " quoth she.

* Even as she uttered those bewildering sweet words,
I caught sight of something in her belt, the corner of a
little note thrust sidewise into it ; but I did not need
that indication to tell me that TuUia's fantastic conduct
was referable to occult causes. Woman, in my opinion.

A Frinoe 6E BiiIm rnii IS7

is the most l(^;ical of cnaaA

excepted. In both we

the unvarying triunph td

thought. The childTs thoi^t

but while it possesses him, ke

ardour that others give way bciaire

the ingenuity, the pcrgsrmce td a

Woman is less changeable, \mt to caE

stupid insult. WhcDcrcr she acfi^ dK b

by one dominant passion ; and ■laiiiifai k is

she makes that passion the very ccaauc of
^ Tullia was irresistiUe

h&T fingers, the sky grew blae

glorious. And ingenioas writer ci pim as Ik
never so much as saw that his wife had haricd a

out of sight.

'''Such is Ufe, my dear feflow,''!
and downs and contrasts^*
'" EspeciaUy Ufe off the sta^c,' I
'" That is just what I mcap," he endued. *Why,
but for these vicJent emociaos, ooe wdhU \
to death ! Ah ! that woonn has dbe gift of
me.

'We went to the VarietesaherdiiUKr; b«t bdbrr
left the house I slipped into da BrvcTs rooo^ and oa a
shelf among a pile of waste p^xrs found the copy of dbe
Petites-Affiches^ in which, agreeably to dbe itSomtA law,
notice of the purchase of ^ hoise was imcrted* The
words stared me in the bcc — ^'^ At the request cfjtaut
Francois du Bruel and Qandine CbaSanmx^ his

wife ^" Here was the explanation of the whole matter*

I offered my arm to Claudine, and allowed the guests to
descend the stairs in front o( us. When we were alone —
"If I were La Palferine," I said,"! would not break an
appointment."

' Gravely she laid her finger on her lips. She leant
on my arm as we went downstairs, and looked at

loS A Prince of Bohemia

roe with almost something like happiness in her eyes
because I knew La Palfcrine. Can you see the first
idea that occurred to her ? She thought of making a
spv of me, but I turned her off with the light jesting
talk of Bohemia.

* A month later, after a first performance of one of du
Bruel's plays, we met in the vestibule of the theatre.
It was raining; I went to call a cab. We had been
delayed for a few minutes, so that there were no cabs in
tight. Claudine scolded du Bruel soundly ; and as we
rolled through the streets (for she set me down at
Florine's), she continued the quarrel with a series of most
mortifying remarks.

' " What is this about f " I inquired.

* " Oh, my dear fellow, she blamci me for allowing
you to run out for a cab, and thereupon proceeds to wish
for a carriage."

' ** As a dancer," said she, " I have never been accus-
tomed to use my feet except on the boards. If you
have any spirit, you will turn out four more plays or so
in a year ; you will make up your mind that succeed
they must, when you think of the end in view, and that

four wife will not walk in the mud. It is a shame that
should have to ask for it. You ought to have guessed
my continual discomfort during the five years since I
married you."

'"I am quite willing," returned du Bruel. "But we
shall ruin ourselves."

'"If you run into debt," she said, "my uncle's money
will clear it off some day."

' " You are quite capable of leaving me the debts and
taking the property."

'"Oh ! is that the way you take it ,' " retorted she.
" I have nothing more to say to you ; such a speech
stops my mouth."

'Whereupon du Bruel poured out his soul in e
and protestations of love. Not a word did i~

A Prince of Bohania 109

He took her hands, she allowed him to take them ; tbef
were like ice, like a dead woman's hands. Tnllia, 70a
can understand, was playing to admindoo the part of
corpse that women can play to show you that they
refuse their consent to anything and everything; that
for you they arc suppressing soul, spirit, and Ufe, and
regard themselves as beasts of burden. Nothing so
provokes a man with a heart as this strategy. Women
can only use it with those who worship them.

'She turned to me. **£>o you suppose," she said
scornfully, " that a count would have uttered such an
insult even if the thought had entered his mind ? For
my misfortune I have lived with dukes, ambassadors,
and great lords, and I know their ways. How intoler-
able It makes bourgeois life ! After all, a playwright is
not a Rastignac nor a Rhetore "

' Du Bruel looked ghastly at this. Two days after-
wards we met in the foytr at the Opera, and took a few
turns together. The conversation fell on Tullia.

* "Do not take my ravings on the boulevard too scri-
ously," said he ; *' I have a violent temper."

* For two winters I was a tolerably frequent visitor at
du Bruel's house, and I followed Claudine's tactics
closely. She had a splendid carriage. Du Bruel entered
public life; she made him abjure his Royalist opinions.
He rallied himself; he took his place again in the adminis-
tration ; the National Guard was discreetly canvassed,
du Bruel was elected major, and behaved so valorously
in a street riot, that he was decorated with the rosette of
an officer of the Legion of Honour. He was appointed
Master of Requests and head of a department. Uncle
ChatFaroux died and left his niece forty thousand francs
per annum, three-fourths of his fortune, Du Bruel
became a deputy ; but beforehand, to save the necessity of
re-election, he secured his nomination to the Council of
State. He reprinted di^ e archaeological treatises, a
couple of political paov d a statistical work, by

^

no A Prince of Bohemia

way of pretext for bit appointment to one of the oblig-
ing academies of the Inititut. At this moment he
is a Commander of the Legion, and (after fishing in
the troubled waters of political intrigue] has quite
recently been made a peer of France and a count. As
yet our friend does not venture to bear bis honours ; hit
wife merely puts " La Comtcsse du Brucl " on her cards.
The sometime playwright has the Order of Leopold, the
Order of Isabella, the Cross of Saint- Vladimir, second
class, the Order of Civil Merit of Bavaria, the Papal
,Ordcr of the Golden Spur, — all the lesser orders, in short,
beside the Grand Cross.

* Three months ago Claudine drove to La Palfcrine't
door in her splendid carriage with its armorial bearings.
Du Bruel's grandfather was a farmer of taxes ennobled
towards the end of Louis Quatorze's reign. Cherin com-
posed his coat-of-arms for him, so the Count's coronet
looks not amiss above a scutcheon innocent of Imperial
absurdities. In this way, in the short space of three
years, Claudine had carried out the programme laid
down for her by the charming, light-hearted La Pal-
f£rine.

'One day, just a month ago, she climbed the miser-
able staircase to her lover's lodging ; climbed in her
glory, dressed like a real countess of the Faubourg Saint-
Germain, to our friend's garret. La Palferine, seeing
her, said, ** You have made a peeress of yourself I know.
But it is too late, Claudine; every one is talking just
now about the Southern Cross, I should like to see it ! "

'*'I will get it for you."

* La Palferine burst into a peal of Homeric laughter.
'*'Mo8t distinctly," he returned, "I do not wish to

have a woman as ignorant as a carp for my mistress, a
woman that springs like a flying fish from the green-
room of the Opera to Court, for I should like to see you
at the Court of the Citizen Kin^."

* She turned to

J

A Prince of Bohemia 1 1 1

*"Wfaat is the Southern Cross?" she asked, lo a
sad, downcast voice.

*I was struck with admiration for this indomitable
love, outdoing the most ingenious marvels of fairj tales in
real life — a love that would spring over a precipice to find
a roc's egg, or to gather the singing flower. I explained
that the Southern Cross was a nebulous constellation
even brighter than the Milky Way, arranged in the form
of a cross, and that it could only be seen in southern
latitudes.

* " Very well, Charles, let us go," said sht.

' La Palferine, ferocious though he was, had tcan in
his eyes; but what a look there was in Claadine't bet,
what a note in her voice ! I have seen nothing like the
thing that followed, not even in the sujM'eme touch of a
great actor's art ; nothing to compare with her move-
ment when she saw the hard eyes softened in tean ;
Claudine sank upon her koecs and kissed La Palfcrinc's
pitiless hand. He raised her with his grand manner, his
" Rusticoli air," as he calls it — ''There, child ! '* he nid,
" I will do something for you ; I will put )

'Well,' concluded Nathan, 'I ask myself sometiines
whether du Bniel is really deceived. Truly there is
nothing more comic, nothing stranger than the sieht of
a careless young fellow ruling a married couple, his
slightest whims received as law, the weightiest Jecmoot
revoked at a word from him. That dinno iocidcnt, as
you can see, is repeated times without number, it iotcr-
feres with important matters. Still, but for Clandinc*s
caprices, du Bruel would be de Cnrsy still, one
vaudevillist among five hundred ; whereas he tf in the
House of Peers.'

' You will change t he jj , I hope ! * njd Nathan,
addressing Mme. de l^^B^
' I should think f^r^ f >et nuwi to the

112 A Prince of Bohemia

maski for you. My dear Nathan/ she added in the
poet's ear, * I know another case in which the wife take*
du Bniel's place.'

' And the catastrophe i ' queried Lousteau, returning
juit at the end of Mme. de la Baudraye's story.

* I do not believe in catastrophes. One has to invent
such good ones to show that art is quite a match for
chance ; and nobody reads a book twice, my friend,
except for the details.'

* But there is a catastrophe,' persisted Nathan.
'What is it?'

*Thc Marquise de Rochelide is inlatuated with
Charles Edward. My story excited her curiosity.*

* Oh, unhappy woman I ' cried Mme. de la Baudraye.
'Not so unhappy,* said Nathan, 'for Maxime de

Traillcs and La Palferine have brought about a rupture
between the Marquis and Mme. Schontz, and they
mean to make it up between Arthur and Beatrix.*

i8j9-i!«.

M

A MAN OF BUSINESS

Tt Mamiair It Barwm Jama it RMhtdaldy Bmaitr ^U
Austrian Cmsml-GaurMl at Pmris,

The word lorette is a cupbanum iorcntBd to describe
the status of a pcnoiuge, or a pcnooagc of a ttata^ of
which it is awkward to speak ; the WttbA Acadenie,
in its modesty, having tmiittcd to sopf^ a defiidliaH
out of regard for the age of its fbrtj membcn. When-
ever a new word conies to sup^j the pla^ of an
unwieldy circumlocution, its fortune is assured ; the
word lorette has passed into the language of ercry class
of society, even where the lorette herself will ncrcr gain
an entrance. It was only invented in 1840, and derived
beyond a doubt from the agglomeiation of such svrallows*
nests about the Church of Our Lady of Lwetto. Thb
information is for etymologists only. Those gentlemen
would not be so often in a quandary if medixval writers
had only taken such pains with details of contemporary
manners as we take in these days of analysis and
description.

Mile. Turquct, or Malaga, for she is better known by
her pseudonym,* was one of the earliest parishioners of
that charming church. At the time to which this
story belongs, that lighthearted and lively damsel glad-
dened the existence of a notary with a wife somewhat
too bigoted, rigid, and frigid for domestic happiness.

Now, it so ^11 out that o Carnival evening Maitre

M UJ, — 'irau.

114 A Man of Business

Cardot was entertaining guests at Mile. Turquet's house
— Desroches the attorney, Bixiou of the caricatures,
Lousteau the journalist, Nathan, and others ; it is quite
unnecessary to give any further description oT these
personages, all bearers of illustrious names in the Comedit
Humaine. Young La Palferine, in spite of his title of
Count and his great descent, which, alas ! means a
great descent in fortune likewise, had honoured the
notary's little establishment with his presence.

At dinner, in such a house, one does not expect to
meet the patriarchal beef, the skinny fowl and salad of
domestic and family life, nor is there any attempt at the
hypocritical conversation of drawing-rooms furnished
with highly respectable matrons. When, alas ! will
respectability be charming I When will the women in
good society vouchsafe to show rather less of their
shoulders and rather more wit or geniality ? Mar-
guerite Turquet, the Aspasia of the Cirque-Olym pique,
is one of those franlc, very living personalities to whom
all is forgiven, such unconscious sinners are they, such
intelligent penitents; of such as Malaga one might
ask, like Cardot — a witty man enough, albeit a notary
— to be well 'deceived,* And yet you must not think
that any enormities were committed. Desroches and
Cardot were good fellows grown too grey in the profes-
sion not to feel at ease with Bixiou, Lousteau, Nathan,
and young La Palferine. And they on their side had too
often had recourse to their legal advisers, and knew them
too well to try to ' draw them out,' in lorette language.

Conversation, perfumed with seven cigars, at first was
as fantastic as a kid let loose, but finally it settled down
upon the strategy of the constant war waged in Paris
between creditors and debtors.

Now, if you will be so good as to recall the hiitorr
and antecedents of the guests, you will know that in ul
Paris you could °lv iind a group of men with more i

experience in j the professional men.

A Man of Business 115

band, and the artists on the other, were something in
the position of magistrates and chininals hobnobbing
together. A set of Bixiou's drawings to illustrate life
in the debtors' prison, led the conversation to take this
particular turn ; and from debtors' prisons they went to
debts.

It was midnight. The/ had broken up into little
knots round the table and before the fire, and gave
themselves up to the burlesque fiin which is only possible
or comprehensible in Paris and in that particular region
which is bounded by the Faubourg Montmartre, (he
Rue Chaussee d'Antin, the upper end of the Rue de
Navarin and the line of the boulevards.

In ten minutes' time they had come to an end of all
the deep reflections, ail the moralisings, small and great,
all the bad puns made on a subject alrudy exhausted by
Rabelais three hundred and fifty years ago. It is not a
little to their credit that the pyrotechnic display was cut
short with a final squib from Malaga.

* It all goes to the shoemakers,' she said. * I left a
milliner because she fisiled twice with my hat*. The
vixen has been here twenty-seven times to ask for twenty
francs. She did not know that we never have twenty
francs. One has a thousand francs, or one sends to one^
notary for five hundred ; but twenty francs I have never
had in my life. My cook and my nuid may, perhaps,
have so much between them ; but for my own part, I
have nothing but credit, and I should lose that if I UmA
to borrowing small sums. If I were to ask for twenty
francs, I should have nothing to distinguish me frr.nn my
colleagues that walk the boulevard.'

' Is the milliner paid ? * asked La Palfcrine,

* Oh, come now, are you turning stupid I ' taid tfur,
with a wink. * She came (hit morning for (he twtoty-
•erentb time, that is how I came to menti'tn it/

" ' What did you do P ' aiked Desrochrs.

* I took fityar- '*'''. and— ordered a little ha( that

ii6 A M«s of BpwnfM

I l»vc jtat invmtcd, a quite new Eliape. If &fUe.
Anuuula wiccigdt wnA h, ske will a.y ao more about
de moneTf facT fartune is made-'

* In my c^nnioo,* pat io Desrocbes^ ' the finest tilings
dna 1 b«vc seen in a dnd of this kind give those who
know Paris ■ ^r better picture of the city than zU the
batcv ponraiis that ifacv paint. Some of jou think that
yoa now a tfainf; or two,' be continued, glancing round
at Natban, Bixioo, La PaJfcnne, and Loustcau, ' but the
kinc nf the crouiul is a colxin Count, now busy nmging
kj»M.lf InlbisniDC, be was supposed to be the cleverest,
adraitest, canniest, boldest, stoutest, most subtle, and
exjicncnced of all t^ piixtcs, wbo, equipped with fine
mannas, TeQow kid gWes, and cabs, have ercr sailed or
ever will sail apontbc stormy sea of Parts. He fears neither
God Bor man. He appties in private life the principles
^at guide ijk Engli^ Cabinet. Up to the time of his
mairiagc, his Hfc was one contiaaal war, Hke — Lousteau's,
far instance. I wms, and am still his solicitor.*

*And the fint lencr of his name is Maxime de
TiwUes,* sud La Palfenne.

* For that muter, he has paid every one, and injured no
one,* coatiniKd Desrocbcs. *But as our friend Bixtou was
saying just now, it is a viohtion of the liberty of the sub-
ject to be made to pay in March when you have no mind
to pay till October. By virtue of this article of his
particular code, Maxime regarded a creditor's scheme
for making him pay at once as a swindler's trick. It
was long since he had grasped the significance of the bill
of exchange in all its bearings, direct and remote. A
young man once, in my place, called a bill of exchange
the " asses' bridge " in his hearing. " No," said he, " it
is the Bridge of Sighs -, it is the shortest way to an execu-
tion." Indeed, his knowledge of commercial law was
to complete, that a professional could not have taught
him anything. At that time he had nothing, as you
know. His carriage and horses were jobbed ; he lived

he lived H

in brnfax^lnK
to his Tzitt tn dK

IS I speak, he iK'^

in IJK nnrey' oimiu upi: 3 ' ^ ^ j.n -> ■.--:_,^.

Kk Biccif tKOT the SlXSli "^

with 1 ccup.t; ir -i.-'

1 1 8 A Man of Business

^The same. Under the Restoration, between 1823
and 1827, Cerizet's occupation consisted in first putting
bis name intrepidly to various paragraphs, on which the
public prosecutor fastened with avidity, and subse-
quently marchine ofF to prison. A man could make a
name for himself with small expense in those days.
The Liberal party called their provincial champion
^'the courageous Cerizet," and towards 1828 so much
zeal received its reward in *' general interest."

* ** General interest '* is a kind of civic crown bestowed
on the deserving by the daily press. Cerizet tried to
discount the '^general interest" taken in him. He
came to Paris, and, with some help from capitalists in
the Opposition, started as a broker, and conducted
financial operations to some extent, the capital being
found by a man in hiding, a skilful gambler who over-
reached himself, and in consequence, in July 1830, his
capital foundered in the shipwreck of the Government.'

^ Oh ! it was he whom we used to call the System,'
cried Bixiou.

^ Say no harm of him, poor fellow,' protested Malaga.
* D'Estourny was a good sort.*

^ You can imagine the part that a ruined man was
sure to play in 1830 when his name in politics was
" the courageous Cerizet." He was sent off into a very
snug little sub- prefecture. Unluckily for him, it is
one thing to be in opposition — any missile is good
enough to throw, so long as the fight lasts ; but quite
another to be in office. Three months later, he was
obliged to send in his resignation. Had he not taken
it into his head to attempt to win popularity? Still,
as he had done nothing as yet to imperil his title of
** courageous Cerizet," the Government proposed by
way of compensation that he should manage a news-
paper ; nominally an Opposition paper, but Ministerialist
in petto. So the fall of this noble nature was really due
to the Government. To Cerizet, as manager of the

A Man of Business 119

paper, it was rather too evident that he was as a bird
perched on a rotten bough ; and then it was that he
promoted that nice little joint-stock company, and
thereby secured a couple of years in prison ; he was
caught, while more ingenious swindlers succeeded in
catching the public'

^ We are acquainted with the more ingenious,' said
Bixiou ; ^ let us say no ill of the poor fellow ; he was
nabbed ; Couture allowed them to squeeze his cash-box;
who would ever have thought it of him ? '

* At all events, Cerizet was a low sort of fellow, a good
deal damaged by low debauchery. Now for the duel I
spoke about. Never did two tradesmen of the worst
type, with the worst manners, the lowest pair of villains
imaginable, go into partnership in a dirtier business.
Their stock-in-trade consisted of the peculiar idiom of
the man about town, the audacity of poverty, the
cunning that comes of experience, and a special know-
ledge of Parisian capitalists, their origin, connections,
acquaintances, and intrinsic value. This partnership
of two ' dabblers ' (let the Stock Exchange term pass,
for it is the only word which describes them), this
partnership of dabblers did not last very long. They
fought like famished curs over every bit of garbage.

' The earlier speculations of the firm of Cerizet and
Claparon were, however, well planned. The two
scamps joined forces with Barbet, Chaboisseau, Samanon,
and usurers of that stamp, and bought up hopelessly bad
debts.

^Claparon's place of business at that time was a
cramped entresol in the Rue Chabannais — five rooms
at a rent of seven hundred francs at most. Each
partner slept in a little closet, so carefully closed from
prudence, that my head-clerk could never get inside. The
furniture of the other three rooms — an ante- chamber,
a waiting-room, and a private office — would not have
fetched three hundred francs altogether at a distress-

I20 A Man of Business

warrant sale. You know enough of Paris to know the
look of it; the stuffed horsehair-covered chairs, a
table covered with a green cloth, a trumpery clock
between a couple of candle sconces, growing tarnished
under glass shades, the small gilt-firamed mirror over
the chimney-piece, and in the grate a charred stick
or two of firewood which had lasted them for two
winters, as my head-clerk put it. As for the office, you
can guess what it was like — more letter-files than
business letters, a set of common pigeon-holes for either
partner, a cylinder desk, empty as the cash-box, in
the middle of the room, and a couple of armchairs on
either side of a coal fire. The carpet on the floor was
bought cheap at second-hand (like the biUs and bad
debts). In short, it was the mahogany furniture of
furnished apartments which usually descends from one
occupant of chambers to another during fifty years of
service. Now you know the pair of antagonists.

^During the first three months of a partnership
dissolved four months later in a bout of fisticuiSfs, Cerizet
and Claparon bought up two thousand francs' worth of
bills bearing Maxime's signature (since Maxime is his
name), and filled a couple of letter files to bursting with
judgments, appeals, orders of the court, distress-warrant,
application for stay of proceedings, and all the rest of it ;
to put it briefly, they had bills for three thousand two
hundred francs odd centimes, for which they had given
five hundred francs ; the transfer being made under
private seal, with special power of attorney, to save the
expense of registration. Now it so happened at this
juncture, Maxime, being of ripe age, was seized with one
of the fancies peculiar to the man of fifty '

* Antonia ! ' exclaimed La Palferine. * That Antonia
whose fortune I made by writing to ask for a tooth-
brush ! '

^ Her real name is Chocardelle,' said Malaga, not over
well pleased by the fine-sounding pseudonym.

A Man of Business 121

^ The same,' continued Desroches.

^ It was the only mistake Maxime ever made in his
life. But what would you have, no vice is absolutely
perfect ? ^ put in Bixiou.

^ Maxime had still to learn what sort of a life a man
may be led into by a girl of eighteen when she is minded
to take a header from her honest garret into a sumptuous
carriage ; it is a lesson that all statesmen should take to
heart. At this time, de Marsay had just been employing
his friend, our friend de Trailles, in the high comedy of
politics. Maxime had looked high for his conquests;
he had no experience of untitled women ; and at fifty
years he felt that he had a right to take a bite of a little
so-called wild fruit, much as a sportsman will halt under
a peasant's apple-tree. So the Count found a reading-
room for Mile. Chocardelle, a rather smart little place to
be had cheap, as usual '

* Pooh f said Nathan. ^She did not stay in it six
months. She was too handsome to keep a reading-room.'

^ Perhaps you are the fether of her child ? ' suggested
the lorette.

Desroches resumed.

^ Since the firm bought up Maxime's debts, Cerizet's
likeness to a bailifPs officer grew more and more striking,
and one morning after seven fruitless attempts he suc-
ceeded in penetrating into the Count's presence. Suzon,
the old man-servant, albeit he was by no means in his
novitiate, at last mistook the visitor for a petitioner,
come to propose a thousand crowns if Maxime would
obtain a license to sell postage stamps for a young lady.
Suzon, without the slightest suspicion of the little scamp,
a thoroughbred Paris street-boy into whom prudence
had been rubbed by repeated personal experience of the
police-courts, induced his master to receive him. Can
you see the man of business, with an uneasy eye, a bald
forehead, and scarcely any hair on his head, standing in
his threadbare jacket and muddy boots '

122 A Man of Business

^ What a picture of a Dun I ' cried Lousteau.

^ standing before the Count, that image of

flaunting Debt, in his blue flannel dressing-gown,
slippers worked by some marquise or other, trousers of
white woollen stuff, and a dazzling shirt ? There he
stood, with a gorgeous cap on his black dyed hair, play-
ing with the tassels at his waist *

**Tis a bit of genre for anybody who knows the
pretty little morning room, hung with silk and full of
valuable paintings, where Maxime breakfasts,' said
Nathan. ^ You tread on a Smyrna carpet, you admire the
sideboards filled with curiosities and rarities fit to make
a King of Saxony envious *

^Now for the scene itself,' said Desroches, and the
deepest silence followed;

'"Monsieur le Comte," began Cerizet, **I have
come from a M. Charles Claparon, who used to be a
banker "

' " Ah ! poor devil, and what does he want with me ? "

c cc Weii^ he is at present your creditor for a matter of
three thousand two hundred francs, seventy-five
centimes, principal, interest, and costs '

* " Coutelier's business ? " put in Maxime, who knew
his affairs as a pilot knows his coast.

' " Yes, Monsieur le Comte," said Cerizet with a bow.
" I have come to ask your intentions."

' " I shall only pay when the fancy takes me," re-
turned Maxime, and he rang for Suzon. " It was very
rash of Claparon to buy up bills of mine without speak-
ing to me beforehand. I am sorry for him, for he
did so very well for such a long time as a man of
straw for friends of mine. I always said that a man
must really be weak in his intellect to work for men that
stuff themselves with millions, and to serve them so faith-
fully for such low wages. And now here he gives me
another proof of his stupidity ! Yes, men deserve what
they get. It is your own doing whether you get a crown

A Man of Business 123

on your forehead or a bullet through your head ; whether
you are a millionaire or a porter, justice is always done
you. I cannot help it, my dear fellow ; I myself am not
a king, I stick to my principles. I have no pity for
those that put me to expense or do not know their
business as creditors. — Suzon ! my tea ! Do you see
this gentleman ?" he continued when the man came in.
** Well, you have allowed yourself to be taken in, poor
old boy. This gentleman is a creditor ; you ought to
have known him by his boots. No friend nor foe of
mine, nor those that are neither and want something of
me, come to see me on foot. — My dear M. Cerizet, do
you understand ? You will not wipe your boots on my
carpet again " (looking as he spoke at the mud that
whitened the encmy*s soles). " Convey my compliments
and sympathy to Claparon, poor buffer, for I shall file
this business under the letter Z."

*A11 this with an easy good-humour fit to give a
virtuous citizen the colic.

* ** You are wrong, Monsieur le Comte,*' retorted
Cerizet, in a slightly peremptory tone. " Wc will be
paid in fiiU, and that in a way which you may not like.
That was why I came to you first in a friendly spirit,
as is right and fit between gentlemen "

* '' Oh ! so that is how you understand it ? " began
Maxime, enraged by this last piece of presumption.
There was something of Talleyrand's wit in the in-
solent retort, if you have quite grasped the contrast
between the two men and their costumes. Maxime
scowled and looked full at the intruder ; Cerizet not
merely endured the glare of cold fury, but even
returned it, with an icy, cat-like malignance and fixity
of gaze.

* ** Very good, sir, go out "

*Very well, good day. Monsieur le Comte. We
shall be quits before six months are out."

* " If you can steal the amount of your bill, which is

1 24 A Man of Buaness

legally due I own, I shall be indebted to you, sir,"
replied Maxime. ^' You will have taught me a new
precaution to take. I am very much your servant."

' " Monsieur le Comte," said Cerizet, ** it is I, on the
contrary, who am yours."

^ Here was an explicit, forcible, confident declaration
on either side. A couple of tigers confabulating, with
the prey before them, and a fight impending, would
have been no finer and no shrewder than this pair ; the
insolent fine gentleman as great a blackguard as the
other in his soiled and mud-stained clothes.

* Which will you lay your money on ? ' asked Des-
roches, looking round at an audience, surprised to find
how deeply it was interested.

* A pretty story ! ' cried Malaga. * My dear boy, go
on, I beg of you. This goes to one's heart.'

^ Nothing commonplace could happen between two
fighting-cocks of that calibre,' added La Palferine.

^ Pooh ! ' cried Malaga, ^ I will wager my cabinet-
maker's invoice (the fellow is dunning me) that the
little toad was too many for Maxime.'

^ I bet on Maxime,' said Cardot. ^Nobody ever
caught him napping.'

Desroches drank off a glass that Malaga handed to him.

^Mlle. Chocardelle's reading-room,' he continued,
after a pause, ^ was in the Rue Coquenard, just a step or
two from the Rue Pigalle where Maxime was living.
The said Mile. Chocardelle lived at the back on the
garden side of the house, beyond a big, dark place
where the books were kept. Antonia left her aunt to
look after the business '

^ Had she an aunt even then ? ' exclaimed Malaga.
^ Hang it all, Maxime did things handsomely.'

^ Alas ! it was a real aunt,' said Desroches ; ^ her name
was — let me see '

^ Ida Bonamy,' said Bixiou.

^ So as Antonia's aunt took a good deal of the work

A Man of Business 125

oflF her hands, she went to bed late and lay late of a
morning, never showing her face at the desk until the
afternoon, some time between two and four. From the
very first her appearance was enough to draw custom.
Several elderly men in the quarter used to come, among
them a retired coach-builder, one Croizeau. Beholding
this miracle of female loveliness through the window-
panes, he took it into his head to read the newspapers in
the beauty's reading-room; and a sometime custom-
house officer, named Denisart, with a ribbon in his
button-hole, followed the example. Croizeau chose to
look upon Denisart as a rival. ^^ Mosieur^^ he said
afterwards, '^ I did not know what to buy for you ! '

^That speech should give you an idea of the man.
The Sieur Croizeau happens to belong to a particular
class of old man which should be known as '' Coquerels "
since Henri Monnier's time ; so well did Monnier
render the piping voice, the little mannerisms, little
queue, little sprinkling of powder, little movements of
the head, prim little manner, and tripping gait in the
part of Coquerel in La Famille Improvisee. This
Croizeau used to hand over his halfpence with a flourish
and a ** There, fair lady ! "

^ Mme. Ida Bonamy the aunt was not long in finding
out through the servant that Croizeau, by popular report
of the neighbourhood of the Rue de BufFault, where he
lived, was a man of exceeding stinginess, possessed of forty
thousand francs per annum. A week after the instalment
of the charming librarian he was delivered of a pun —

* " You lend me books {livres\ but I give you plenty
of francs in return," said he.

^ A few days later he put on a knowing little air, as
much as to say, ^^ I know you are engaged, but my turn
will come one day ; I am a widower."

^ He always came arrayed in fine linen, a cornflower
blue coat, a paduasoy waistcoat, black trousers, and black
ribbon bows on the double soled shoes that creaked

126 A Man of Business

like an abbe*s; he always held a fourteen franc silk
hat in his hand.

^ ^' I am old and I bave no children," he took occasion
to confide to the young lady some few days after
Ccrizet's visit to Maxime. ^^I hold my relations in
horror. They are peasants born to work in the fields.
Just imagine it, I came up from the country with six
francs in my pocket, and made my fortune here. I am
not proud. A pretty woman is my equal. Now would
it not be nicer to be Mme. Croizeau for some years to
come than to do a Count's pleasure for a twelvemonth ?
He will go off and leave you some time or other ; and
when that day comes, you will think of me • . . your
servant, my pretty lady ! **

^ All this was simmering below the surface. The
slightest approach at love-making was made quite on the
sly. Not a soul suspected that the trim little old fogey was
smitten with Antonia ; and so prudent was the elderly
lover, that no rival could have guessed anything from his
behaviour in the reading-room. For a couple of months
Croizeau watched the retired custom-house official ; but
before the third month was out he had good reason to
believe that his suspicions were groundless. He exerted
his ingenuity to scrape an acquaintance with Denisart,
came up with him in the street, and at length seized his
opportunity to remark, '* It is a fine day, sir ! **

^Whereupon the retired official responded with,
"Austerlitz weather, sir. I was there myself — I was
wounded indeed, I won my Cross on that glorious day.''

' And so from one thing to another the two drifted
wrecks of the Empire struck up an acquaintance.
Little Croizeau was attached to the Empire through his
connection with Napoleon's sisters. He had been their
coach-builder, and had frequently dunned them for
money ; so he gave out that he '^ had had relations
with the Imperial femily." Maxime, duly informed
by Antonia of the ^^ nice old man's " proposals (for so

A Man of Business 127

the aunt called Croizeau), wished to see him. Cerizet's
declaration of war had so far taken effect that he of the
yellow kid gloves was studying the position of every
piece, however insignificant, upon the board ; and
it so happened that at the mention of that ^^nice old
man," an ominous tinkling sounded in his ears. One
evening, therefore, Maxime seated himself among the
book-shelves in the dimly lighted back room, recon-
noitred the seven or eight customers through the chink
between the green curtains, and took the little coach-
builder's measure. He gauged the man's infatuation,
and was very well satisfied to find that the varnished
doors of a tolerably sumptuous future were ready to
turn at a word from Antonia so soon as his own fancy
had passed off.

* ** And that other one yonder ? " asked he, pointing
out the stout fine-looking elderly man with the Cross of
the Legion of Honour. " Who is he ? "

* " A retired custom-house officer."

* ** The cut of his countenance is not reassuring," said
Maxime, beholding the Sieur Denisart.

^ And indeed the old soldier held himself upright as a
steeple. His head was remarkable for the amount of
powder and pomatum bestowed upon it ; he looked almost
like a postillion at a fimcy ball. Underneath that felted
covering, moulded to the top of the wearer's cranium,
appeared an elderly profile, half-official, half-soldierly,
with a comical admixture of arrogance, — altogether
something like caricatures of the ConstitutionneL The
sometime official finding that age, and hair-powder, and
the conformation of his spine made it impossible to
read a word without spectacles, sat displaying a very
creditable expanse of chest with all the pride of an old
man with a mistress. Like old General Montcornet,
that pillar of the Vaudeville, he wore earrings. Denisart
was partial to blue ; his roomy trousers and well-worn
greatcoat were both of blue cloth.

128 A Man of Business

^•^How lone is it since that old fogey came here? ''
inquired Maxime, thinking that he saw danger in the
spectacles.

**^Oh, from the beginning,** returned Antonia,
^ pretty nearly two months ago now.'

***Good," said Maxime to himself, "Cerizet only
came to me a month ago. — Just get him to talk,'' he
added in Antonia's ear ; ^^ I want to hear his voice."

* ** Pshaw," said she, ** that is not so easy. He never
says a word to me."

*"Then why does he come here?" demanded
Maxime.

*"For a queer reason," returned the fair Antonia.
*^ In the first place, although he is sixty-nine, he has a
fancy ; and because he is sixty-nine, he is as methodical
as a clock face. Every day at five o'clock the old
gentleman goes to dine with her in the Rue de la
V ictoire. (I am sorry for her.) Then, at six o'clock,
he comes here, reads steadily at the papers for four hours,
and goes back at ten o'clock. Daddy Croizeau says
that he knows M. Denisart's motives, and approves his
conduct ; and in his place, he would do the same. So I
know exactly what to expect. If ever I am Mme.
Croizeau, I shall have four hours to myself between six
and ten o'clock."

^ Maxime looked through the directory, and foimd the
following reassuring item : —

* " Denisart, * retired custom-house officer. Rue de la Victoire."

^ His uneasiness vanished.

* Gradually the Sieur Denisart and the Sieur Croizeau
began to exchange confidences. Nothing so binds two
men together as a similarity of views in the matter of
womankind. Daddy Croizeau went to dine with ^^ M.
Denisart's fair lady,' as he called her. And here I must
make a somewhat important observation.

^The reading-room had been paid for half in cash.

A Man of Business 129

half in bills signed by the said Mile. Chocardelle. The
quart d^heure de Rabelais arrived ; the Count had no
money. So the first bill of three thousand-franc bills
was met by the amiable coach-builder; that old scoundrel
Denisart having recommended him to secure himself
with a mortgage on the reading-room.

*"For my own part," said Denisart, "I have seen
pretty doings from pretty women. So, in all cases,
even when I have lost my head, I am always on my
guard with a woman. There is this creature, for
instance ; I am madly in love with her ; but this is not
her furniture ; no, it belongs to me. The lease is taken
out in my name.''

^ You know Maxime ! He thought the coach-builder
uncommonly green. Croizeau might pay all three bills,
and get nothing for a long while ; for Maxime felt more
infatuated with Antonia than ever.'

*I can well believe it,' said La Palferine. ^She is
the bella Imperia of our day.'

^ With her rough skin ! ' exclaimed Malaga ; ^ so
rough, that she ruins herself in bran baths ! '

^Croizeau spoke with a coach-builder's admiration
of the sumptuous furniture provided by the amorous
Denisart as a setting for his hiv one, describing it all in
detail vrith diabolical complacency for Antonia s benefit,'
continued Desroches. ^The ebony chests inlaid with
mother-of-pearl and gold wire, the Brussels carpets, a
mediaeval bedstead worth three thousand francs, a Boule
clock, candelabra in the four corners of the dining-room,
silk curtains, on which Chinese patience had wrought
pictures of birds, and hangings over the doors, worth
more than the portress that opened them.

*"And that is what you ought to have, my pretty
lady. — And that is what I should like to offer you," he
would conclude. ^^ I am quite aware that you scarcely
care a bit about me ; but, at my age, we cannot expect
too much. Judge how much I love you ; I have lent

I

130 A Man of Business

vou a thousand francs. I must confess that, in all my
t>orn days, I have not lent anybody that much "

^He held out his pemiy as he spoke, with the im-
portant air of a man that gives a learned demonstration.

^ That evening at the Varietes, Antonia spoke to the
Count.

^ ^^ A reading-room is very dull, all the same,' said she ;
^^ I feel that I have no sort of taste for that kind of life,
and I see no future in it. It is only fit for a widow that
wishes to keep body and soul together, or for some
hideously ugly thing that fancies she can catch a husband
with a little finery."

*"It was your own choice,** returned the Count.
Just at that moment, in came Nucingen, of whom
Maxime, king of lions (the "yellow kid gloves" were
the lions of that day) had won three thousand francs
the evening before. Nucingen had come to pay his
gaming debt.

^"Ein writ of attachment haf shoost peen served on
me by der order of dot teufel Glabaron," he said, seeing
Maxime's astonishment.

* ** Oh, so that is how they are going to work, is it ? "
cried Maxime. "They are not up to much, that
pair

* ** It makes not," said the banker, ** bay dem, for dey
may apply demselfs to oders pesides, und do you harm.
I dake dees bretty voman to vitness dot I haf baid you
dees morning, long pefore dat writ vas serfed." '

^ Queen of the boards,' smiled La Palferine, looking
at Malaga, ^ thou art about to lose thy bet.'

^ Once, a long time ago, in a similar case,' resumed
Desroches, ^a too honest debtor took fright at the
idea of a solemn declaration in a court of law, and de-
clined to pay Maxime after notice was given. That
time we made it hot for the creditor by piling on writs
of attachment, so as to absorb the whole amount in
costs—'

A Man of Business 133

< « Very well. It is kind of you, Daddy Croizeau,"
said Antonia.

* " Oh, I shall be much kinder before I have done.
Just imagine it, poor M. Denisart has been worried into
the jaundice ! Yes, it has gone to the liver, as it usuallv
does with susceptible old men. It is a pity he feels
things so. I told him so myself; I said, * Be passionate,
there is no harm in that, but as for taking things to
heart — draw the line at that ! It is the way to kill your-
self.' — Really, I would not have expected him to tate on
so about it ; a man that has sense enough and experience
enough to keep away as he does while he digests his
dinner "

* " But what is the matter ? " inquired Mile. Chocar-
delle.

^^^That little baggage with whom I dined has cleared
out and left him ! . . . Yes. Gave him the slip with-
out any warning but a letter, in which the spelling was
all to seek."

*" There, Daddy Croizeau, you see what comes of
boring a woman "

*"It is indeed a lesson, my pretty lady," said the
guileful Croizeau. ^^ Meanwhile, I have never seen a
man in such a state. Our friend Denisart cannot tell
his left hand from his right ; he will not go back to look
at the ^ scene of his happiness,' as he calls it. He has so
thoroughly lost his wits, that he proposes that I should
buy all Hortense's furniture (Hortense was her name)
for four thousand francs."

*" A pretty name," said Antonia.

*"Yes. Napoleon's step-daughter was called Hor-
tense. I built carriages for her, as you know."

* " Very well, I will see," said cunning Antonia ;
" begin by sending this young woman to me."

* Antonia hurried ofF to see the furniture, and came
back fascinated. She brought Maxime under the spell
of antiquarian enthusiasm. That very evening the

134 A Man of Business

Count agreed to the sale of the reading-room. The
establishment, you see, nominally belonged to Mile.
Chocardelle. Maxime burst out laughing at the idea
of little Croizeau's finding; him a buyer. The firm of
Maxime and Chocardelle was losing two thousand
francs, it is true, but what was the loss compared with
four glorious thousand-franc notes in hand ? ^^ Four
thousand francs of live coin ! — there are moments in
one's life when one would sign bills for eight thousand
to get them," as the Count said to me.

^Two days later the Count must see the furniture
himself, and took the four thousand francs upon
him. The sale had been arranged ; thanks to little
Croizeau's diligence, he pushed matters on ; he had
^^ come round " the vridow, as he expressed it. It was
Maxime's intention to have all the furniture removed at
once to a lodging in a new house in the Rue Tronchet,
taken in the name of Mme. Ida Bonamy ; he did not
trouble himself much about the nice old man that was
about to lose his thousand francs. But he had sent
beforehand for several big furniture vans.

^ Once again he was fascinated by the beautiful furni-
ture which a wholesale dealer would have valued at six
thousand francs. By the fireside sat the wretched owner,
yellow with jaundice, his head tied up in a couple of
printed handkerchiefs, and a cotton night-cap on the top
of them ; he was huddled up in wrappings like a chande-
lier, exhausted, unable to speak, and altogether so knocked
to pieces that the Count was obliged to transact his busi-
ness with the man-servant. When he had paid down
the four thousand francs, and the servant had taken the
money to his master for a receipt, Maxime turned to
tell the man to call up the vans to the door ; but even as
he spoke, a voice like a rattle sounded in his ears.

* " It is not worth while. Monsieur le Comte. You
and I are quits ; I have six hundred and thirty francs
fifteen centimes to give you ! *'

■'• ■■ V 'li

\ ,

A Man of Business 135

^ To his utter consternation, he saw Cerizet, emerged
from his wrappings like a butterfly from the chrysalis,
holding out the accursed bimdle of documents.

* ** When I was down on my luck, I learned to act on
the stage,^ added Cerizet. ^^ I am as good as BoufFe at
old men."

*"I have fallen among thieves ! " shouted Maxime.

* " No, Monsieur le Comte, you are in Mile. Hor-
tense's house. She is a friend of old Lord Dudley's ; he
keeps her hidden away here ; but she has the bad taste to
like your humble servant."

*" If ever I longed to kill a man," so the Count told
me afterwards, ^^ it was at that moment ; but what could
one do ? Hortense showed her pretty face, one had to
laugh. To keep my dignity, I flung her the six hun-
dred francs. * There 's for the girl,* said I." *

* That is Maxime all over ! * cried La Palferine.

^ More especially as it was little Croizeau's money,'
added Cardot the profound.

* Maxime scored a trumph,' continued Desroches,
* for Hortense exclaimed, ** Oh ! if I had only known that
it was you ! " *

* A pretty ** confusion " indeed ! ' put in Malaga.
^You have lost, milord,' she added, turning to the
notary.

And in this way the cabinetmaker, to whom Malaga
owed a hundred crowns, was paid.

Paris, 1845.

GAUDISSART II

To Madame la Princesse Cristina de Bilgiojoso^ nee

Trivulzio.

To know how to sell, to be able to sell, and to sell. People
generally do not suspect how much of the stateliness of
Paris is due to these three aspects of the same problem.
The brilliant display of shops as rich as the salons of the
noblesse before 1 789 ; the splendours of cafes which
eclipse, and easily eclipse, the Versailles of our day ; the
shop-window illusions, new every morning, nightly
destroyed ; the grace and elegance of the young men that
come in contact with fair customers ; the piquant faces
and costumes of young damsels, who cannot fiul to
attract the masculine customer; and (and this especially
of late) the length, the vast spaces, the Babylonish
luxury of galleries where shopkeepers acquire a mono-
poly of the trade in various articles by bringing them all
together, — all this is as nothing. Everything, so far,
has been done to appeal to a single sense, and that
the most exacting and jaded human faculty, a &culty
developed ever since the days of the Roman Empire,
until, in our own times, thanks to the efforts of the
most fastidious civilisation the world has yet seen, its
demands are grown limitless. That faculty resides in
the * eyes of Paris.'

Those eyes require illuminations costing a hundred
thousand francs, and many-coloured glass palaces a
couple of miles long and sixty feet high ; they must have

186

Gaudissart II 137

a fairyland at some fourteen theatres every night, and a
succession of panoramas and exhibitions of the triumphs
of art i for them a whole world of suffering and pain,
and a universe of joy, must revolve through the boule-
vards or stray through the streets of Paris ; for them
encyclopaedias of carnival frippery and a score of illus-
trated books are brought out every year, to say nothing
of caricatures by the hundred, and vignettes, lithographs,
and prints by the thousand. To please those eyes,
fifteen thousand francs' worth of gas must blaze every
night ; and, to conclude, for their delectation the great
city yearly spends several millions of francs in opening
up views and planting trees. And even yet this is as
nothing — it is only the material side of the question ; in
truth, a mere trifle compared with the expenditure of
brain power on the shifts, worthy of Moliere, invented by
some sixty thousand assistants and forty thousand dam-
sels of the counter, who fasten upon the customer's
purse, much as myriads of Seine whitebait fall upon a
chance crust floating down the river.

Gaudissart in the mart is at least the equal of his
illustrious namesake, now become the typical com-
mercial traveller. Take him away from his shop and
his line of business, he is like a collapsed balloon ;
only among his bales of merchandise do his faculties
return, much as an actor is sublime only upon the
boards. A French shopman is better educated than his
fellows in other European countries; he can at need
talk asphalt, Bal Mabille, polkas, literature, illustrated
books, railways, politics, parliament, and revolution ;
transplant him, take away his stage, his yard-stick, his
artificial graces; he is foolish beyond belief; but on his
own boards, on the tight-rope of the counter, as he
displays a shawl with a speech at his tongue's end, and
his eye on his customer, he puts the great Talleyrand
into the shade ; he has more wit than a Desaugiers,
more wiles than Cleopatra ; he is a match for a Mon-

138 Gaudissart II

rose and a Moliere to boot. Talleyrand in his own
house would have outwitted Gaudissart, but in the shop
the parts would have been reversed.

An incident will illustrate the paradox.

Two charming duchesses were chatting with the
above-mentioned great diplomatist. The ladies wished
for a bracelet ; they were waiting for the arrival of a
man from a great Parisian jeweller. A Gaudissart accord-
ingly appeared with three bracelets of marvellous work-
manship. The great ladies hesitated. Choice is a
mental lightning flash ; hesitate — there is no more to be
said, you are at fault. Inspiration in matters of taste
will not come twice. At last, after about ten minutes,
the Prince was called in. He saw the two duchesses
confronting doubt with its thousand facets, unable to
decide between the transcendent merits of two of the
trinkets, for the third had been set aside at once.
Without leaving his book, without a glance at the
bracelets, the Prince looked at the jeweller's assistant.

* Which would you choose for your sweetheart?'
asked he.

The young man indicated one of the pair.

^ In that case, take the other, you will make two
women happy,' said the subtlest of modern diplomatists,
^ and make your sweetheart happy too, in my name.'

The two hiT ladies smiled, and the young shopman
took his departure, delighted with the Prince's present
and the implied compliment to his taste.

A woman alights from her splendid carriage before
one of the expensive shops where shawls are sold in the
Rue Vivienne. She is not alone ; women almost always
go in pairs on these expeditions ; always make the round
of half a score of shops before they make up their minds,
and laugh together in the intervals over the little
comedies played for their benefit. Let us see which of
the two acts most in character — the fair customer or
the seller, and which has the best of it in such miniature
vaudevilles ?

Gaudissart II 139

If you attempt to describe a sale, the central fact of
Parisian trade, you are in duty bound, if you attempt
to give the gist of the matter, to produce a type, and
for this purpose a shawl or a chatelaine costing some
three thousand francs is a more exciting purchase than
a length of lawn or dress that costs three hundred.
But know, oh foreign visitors from the Old World and
the New (if ever this study of the physiology of the
Invoice should be by you perused), that this selfsame
comedy is played in haberdashers' shops over a barege at
two francs or a printed muslin at four francs the yard.

And you, princess, or simple citizen's wife, whichever
you may be, how should you distrust that good-looking,
very young man, with those frank, innocent eyes, and a
cheek like a peach covered with down ? He is dressed
almost as well as your — cousin, let us say. His tones
are as soft as the woollen stufFs which he spreads before
you. There are three or four more of his like. One
has dark eyes, a decided expression, and an imperial
manner of saying, ^ This is what you wish ' ; another,
that blue-eyed youth, diffident of manner and meek of
speech, prompts the remark, ^ Poor boy ! he was not
born for business ' ; a third, with light auburn hair, and
laughing tawny eyes, has all the lively humour, and
activity, and gaiety of the South ; while the fourth,
he of the tawny red hair and fan-shaped beard, is rough
as a communist, with his portentous cravat, his sternness,
his dignity, and curt speech.

These varieties of shopmen, corresponding to the
principal types of feminine customers, are arms, as it
were, directed by the head, a stout personage with a
full-blown countenance, a partially bald forehead, and a
chest measure befitting a Ministerialist deputy. Occa-
sionally this person wears the ribbon of the Legion of
Honour in recognition of the manner in which he
supports the dignity of the French draper's wand.
From the comfortable curves of his figure you can see

140 Gaudissart II

that he has a wife and family, a country house, and an
account with the Bank of France. He descends like
a deus ex machina^ whenever a tangled problem demands
a swift solution. The feminine purchasers are sur-
rounded on all sides with urbanity, youth, pleasant
manners, smiles, and Jests ; the most seeming-simple
human products of civilisation are here, all sorted in
shades to suit all tastes.

Just one word as to the natural effects of architecture,
optical science, and house decoration ; one short, decisive,
terrible word, of history made on the spot. The work
which contains this instructive page is sold at number
76 Rue de Richelieu, where above an elegant shop, all
white and gold and crimson velvet, there is an entre-sol
into which the light pours straight from the Rue de
Menars, as into a painter's studio — clean, clear, even day-
light. What idler in the streets has not beheld the Persian,
that Asiatic potentate, ruffling it above the door at the
corner of the Rue de la Bourse and the Rue de Riche-
lieu, with a message to deliver urbi et orbiy ' Here I reign
more tranquilly than at Lahore ' ? Perhaps but for this
immortal analytical study, archaeologists might begin to
puzzle their heads about him five hundred years hence,
and set about writing quartos with plates (like M.
Quatremere's work on Olympian Jove) to prove that
Napoleon was something of a Sofi in the East before he
became * Emperor of the French.' Well, the wealthy
shop laid siege to the poor little entce-sol; and after
a bombardment with bank-notes, entered and took
possession. The Human Comedy gave way before
the comedy of cashmeres. The Persian sacrificed a
diamond or two from his crown to buy that so necessary
daylight ; for a ray of sunlight shows the play of the
colours, brings out the charms of a shawl, and doubles
its value ; 'tis an irresistible light ; literally, a golden
ray. From this fact you may judge how far Paris shops
are arranged with a view to effect.

Gaudissart II 141

But to return to the young assistants, to the be-
ribboned man of forty whom the King of the French
receives at his table, to the red-bearded head of the
department with his autocrat's air. Week by week
these emeritus Gaudissarts are brought in contact with
whims past counting; they know every vibration of
the cashmere chord in the heart of woman. No one, be
she lady or lorette, a young mother of a family, a
respectable tradesman's wife, a woman of easy virtue,
a duchess or a brazen-fronted ballet-dancer, an innocent
young girl or a too innocent foreigner, can appear in
the shop, but she is watched from the moment when
she first lays her fingers upon the door-handle. Her
measure is taken at a glance by seven or eight men that
stand, in the windows, at the counter, by the door, in
a corner, or in the middle of the shop, meditating, to
all appearance, on the joys of a bacchanalian Sunday
holiday. As you look at them, you ask yourself involun-
tarily, * What can they be thinking about ? ' Well, in
the space of one second, a woman's purse, wishes, inten-
tions, and whims are ransacked more thoroughly than a
travelling carriage at a frontier in an hour and three-
quarters. Nothing is lost on these intelligent rogues.
As they stand, solemn as noble fathers on the stage,
they take in all the details of a fair customer's dress ; an
invisible speck of mud on a little shoe, an antiquated
hat-brim, soiled or ill-judged bonnet-strings, the fashion
of the dress, the age of a pair of gloves. They can tell
whether the gown was cut by the intelligent scissors of
a Victorine iv. ; they know a modish gewgaw or a
trinket from Froment-Meurice. Nothing, in short,
which can reveal a woman's quality, fortune, or character
passes unremarked.

Tremble before them. Never was the Sanhedrim of
Gaudissarts, with their chief at their head, known to
make a mistake. And, moreover, they communicate
their conclusions to one another with telegraphic speed,

142 Gaudissart II

in a glance, a smile, the movement of a muscle, a twitch
of the lip. If you watch them, you are reminded of the
sudden outbreak of light along the Champs Elysees at
dusk ; one gas-jet does not succeed another more swiftly
than an idea flashes from one shopman's eyes to the next.

At once, if the lady is English, the dark, mysterious,
portentous Gaudissart advances like a romantic character
out of one of Byron's poems.

If she is a city madam, the oldest is put forward. He
brings out a hundred shawls in fifteen minutes; he
turns her head with colours and patterns ; every shawl
that he shows her is like a circle described by a kite
wheeling round a hapless rabbit, till at the end of half
an hour, when her head is swimming and she is utterly
incapable of making a decision for herself, the good lady,
meeting with a flattering response to all her ideas, refers
the question to the assistant, who promptly leaves her
on the horns of a dilemma between two equally irre-
sistible shawls.

^This, madame, is very becoming — apple-green, the
colour of the season ; still, fashions change ; while as for
this other black-and-white shawl (an opportunity not to
be missed), you will never see the end of it, and it will
go with any dress.'

This is the A B C of the trade.

^You would not believe how much eloquence is
wanted in that beastly line,' the head Gaudissart of this
particular establishment remarked quite lately to two
acquaintances (Duronceret and Bixiou) who had come
trusting in his judgment to buy a shawl. ' Look here ;
you are artists and discreet, I can tell you about the
governor's tricks, and of all the men I ever saw, he is
the cleverest. I do not mean as a manufacturer, there
M. Fritot is first ; but as a salesman. He discovered
the 'Selim shawl,' an absolutely unsaleable article, yet
we never bring it out but we sell it. We keep always
a shawl worth five or six hundred francs in a cedar-wood

Gaudissart II 143

box, perfectly plain outside, but lined with satin. It is one
of the shawls that Selim sent to the Emperor Napoleon.
It is our Imperial Guard; it is brought to the front
whenever the day is almost lost ; il se vend et ne meurt
pas — ^it sells its life dearly time after time.'

As he spoke, an Englishwoman stepped from her
jobbed carriage and appeared in all the glory of that
phlegmatic humour peculiar to Britain and to all its
products which make believe they are alive. The appa-
rition put you in mind of the Commandant's statue in
Don Juany it walked along, jerkily by fits and starts, in
an awkward fashion invented in London, and cultivated
in every family with patriotic care.

^ An Englishwoman f ' he continued for Bixiou's ear.
^ An Englishwoman is our Waterloo. There are women
who slip through our fingers like eels ; we catch them
on the staircase. There ar& lorettes who chaiF us, we join
in the laugh, we have a hold on them because we give
credit. There are sphinx-like foreign ladies ; we take a
quantity of shawls to their houses, and arrive at an

understanding by flattery ; but an Englishwoman !

you might as well attack the bronze statue of Louis
Quatorze ! That sort of woman turns shopping into
an occupation, an amusement. She quizzes us, for-
sooth ! '

The romantic assistant came to the front.

^ Does madame wish for real Indian shawls or French,
something expensive or '

* I will see.' {Je veraie.)

* How much would madame propose '

* I will see.'

The shopman went in quest of shawls to spread upon
the mantle-stand, giving his colleagues a significant
glance. ' What a bore ! ' he said plainly, with an almost
imperceptible shrug of the shoulders.

'These are our best quality in Indian red, blue,
and pale orange — all at ten thousand francs. Here

144 Gaudissart II

are shawls at fire thousand francs, and others at
three.'

The Englishwoman took up her eveglass and kx>ked
round the room with gloomy indifference; then she
submitted the three stands to the same scrutiny, and
made no sign.

^ Have you any more ? ' ( Havaivod^hotet) demanded she.

^ Yes, madame. But perhaps madame has not quite
decided to take a shawl ? "

* Oh, quite decided ' {trei-deyddai).

The young man went in search of cheaper wares.
These he spread out solemnly as if they were things of
price, saying bv his manner, ^ Pay attention to all this
magnificence !

' These are much more expensive,' said he. ^ They
have never been worn; they have come by courier
direct from the manufiicturers at Lahore.*

' Oh ! I see,' said she ; ^ they are much more like the
thing I want.'

The shopman kept his countenance in spite of inward
irritation, which communicated itself to Duronceret and
Bixiou. The Englishwoman, cool as a cucumber,
appeared to rejoice m her phlegmatic humour.

^ What price ? ' she asked, indicating a sky-blue shawl
covered with a pattern of birds nestling in pagodas.

^ Seven thousand fiancs.'

She took it up, wrapped it about her shoulders, looked
in the glass, and handed it back again.

^ No, I do not like it at all.' (// n^ame pouinte.)

A long quarter of an hour went by in trying on
other shawls ; to no purpose.

^This is all we have, madame,' said the assistant,
glancing at the master as he spoke.

^ Madame is fiistidious, like all persons of taste,' said
the head of the establishment, coming forward with that
tradesman's suavity in which pomposity is agreeably
blended with subservience. The Englishwoman took

Gaudissart II 145

up her eyeglass and scanned the manufacturer from head
to foot, unwilling to understand that the man before her
was eligible for Parliament and dined at the Tuileries.

'I have only one shawl left,' he continued, *but I
never show it. It is not to everybody's taste ; it is
quite out of the common. I was thinking this morning
of giving it to my wife. We have had it in stock since
1805 ; it belonged to the Empress Josephine.'

* Let me see it, monsieur.*

' Go for it,' said the master, turning to a shopman.
* It is at my house.'

*I should be very much pleased to see it,' said the
English lady.

This was a triumph. The splenetic dame was appa-
rently on the point of going. She made as though she
saw nothing but the shawls ; but all the while she fur-
tively watched the shopmen and the two customers,
sheltering her eyes behind the rims of her eyeglasses.

' It cost sixty thousand francs in Turkey, madame.'

' Oh ! ' {hdu !)

^ It is one of seven shawls which Selim sent, before his
fell, to the Emperor Napoleon. The Empress Jose-
phine, a Creole, as you know, my lady, and very
capricious in her tastes, exchanged this one for another
brought by the Turkish ambassador, and purchased by
my predecessor ; but I have never seen the money back.
Our ladies in France are not rich enough ; it is not as it is
in England. The shawl is worth seven thousand francs ;
and taking interest and compound interest altogether, it
makes up fourteen or fifteen thousand by now '

' How does it make up ? ' asked the Englishwoman.

* Here it is, madame.'

With precautions, which a custodian of the Dresden
Grune Gewolbe might have admired, he took out an
infinitesimal key and opened a square cedar-wood box.
The Englishwoman was much impressed with its shape
and plainness. From that box, lined with black satin,

K

146 Gaudissart II

he drew a shawl worth about fifteen hundred francs, a
black pattern on a golden-yellow ground, of which the
surtling colour was only surpassed by the surprising
efforts of the Indian imagination.

* Splendid/ said the lady, in a mixture of French and
English, ' it is really handsome. Just my ideal ' (idhl) * of
a shawl ; it is rery magnificent.' The rest was lost in
a madonna's pose assumed for the purpose of displaying
a pair of fngid eyes which she believed to be very fine.

^ It was a ereat favourite with the Emperor Napoleon ;
he took '

^A great favourite,' repeated she with her English
accent. Then she arranged the shawl about her
shoulders and looked at herself in the glass. The pro-
prietor took it to the light, gathered it up in his hands,
smoothed it out, showed the gloss on it, played on it as
Liszt plays on the pianoforte keys.

^ It is very fine ; beautiful, sweet ! ' said the lady, as
composedly as possible.

Duronceret, Bixiou, and the shopmen exchanged
amused elances. ' The shawl is sold,' they thought.

^ Well, madame ? ' inquired the proprietor, as the
Englishwoman appeared to be absorbed in meditations
infinitely prolonged.

' Decidedly,' said she ; ^I would rather have a carriage '
{une voteure).

All the assistants, listening with silent rapt attention,
started as one man, as if an elettric shock had gone
through them.

^ I have a very handsome one, madame,' said the pro-
prietor with unshaken composure ; ^ it belonged to a
Russian princess, the Princess Narzicof ; she left it
with me in payment for goods received. If madame
would like to see it, she would be astonished. It is new ;
it has not been in use altogether for ten days ; there is
not its like in Paris.'

The shopmen's amazement was suppressed by pro-
found admiration.

Gaudissart II 147

* I am quite willing.'

^ If madame will keep the shawl,' suggested the pro-
prietor, ' she can try the effect in the carriage.' And he
went for his hat and gloves.

^ How will this end f ' asked the head assistant, as he
watched his employer offer an arm to the English lady
and go down with her to the jobbed brougham.

By this time the thing had come to be as exciting as
the uist chapter of a novel for Duronceret and Bixiou,
even without the additional interest attached to all
contests, however trifling, between England and France.

Twenty minutes later the proprietor returned.

^ Go to the Hotel Lawson (here is the card, *^ Mrs.
Noswell "}, and take an invoice that I will give you.
There are six thousand francs to take.'

^How did you do it?^ asked Duronceret, bowing
before the king of invoices.

^ Oh, I saw what she was, an eccentric woman that
loves to be conspicuous. As soon as she saw that
every one stared at her, she said, ^^Keep your car-
riage, monsieur, my mind is made up ; I will take the
shawL" While M. Bigorneau (indicating the romantic-
looking assistant) was serving, I watched her carefully }
she kept one eye on you aQ the time to see what you
thought of her ; she was thinking more about you than
of the shawk. Englishwomen are peculiar in their
distaste (for one cannot call it taste) ; they do not know
what they want; they make up their minds to be
guided by circumstances at the time, and not by their
own choice. I saw the kind of woman at once, tired of
her husband, tired of her brats, regretfully virtuous,
craving excitement, always posing as a weeping
willow. . . .'

These were his very words.

Which proves that in all other countries of the world
a shopkeeper is a shopkeeper ; while in France, and in
Paris more particularly, he is a student from a College

148 Gaudissart II

Royal, a well-read man with a taste for art, or anglings
or the theatre, and consumed, it may be, with a desire to
be M. Cunin-Gridaine's successor, or a colonel of the
National Guard, or a member of the General Council of
the Seine, or a referee in the Commercial Court.

^ M. Adolphe,' said the mistress of the establishment,
addressing the slight fair-haired assistant, ^go to the
joiner and order another cedar-wood box.'

^ And now,' remarked the shopman who had assisted
Duronceret and Bixiou to choose a shawl for Mme.
Schontz, ^ now we will go through our old stock to find
another Selim shawl.'

Pari I, NovemUr 1844.

THE FIRM OF NUCINGEN

TO MADAME ZULMA CARRAUD

To whoniy Madame^ but to you should I inscribe
this work; to you whose lofty and candid in^
tellect is a treasury to your friends ; to you that
are to me not only a whole public^ but the most
indulgent of sisters as well? IVill you deign to
accept a token of the friendship of which I am
proud t Touj and some few souls as noble j will
grasp the whole of the thought underlying The
Firm of Nucingen, appended to Cesar Birotteau.
Is there not a whole social lesson in the contrast
between the two stories ?

De Balzac.

You know how slight the partitions are between the
private rooms of fashionable restaurants in Paris ; Very*s
largest room, for instance, is cut in two by a removable
screen. This Scene is not laid at Very's, but in snug
quarters, which for reasons of my own I forbear to
specify. We were two, so I will say, like Henri
Monnier's Prudhomme, ^ I should not like to compro-
mise her ! '

We had remarked the want of solidity in the wall-
structure, so we talked with lowered voices as we sat
together in the little private room, lingering over the
dainty dishes of a dinner exquisite in more senses than
one. We had come as far as the roast, however^ and

149

150 The Firm of Nudngen

itill we had no neighbours ; no sound came from the
next room save the crackline of the fire. But when the
clock struck eight, we heard voices and noisy footsteps ;
the waiters brought candles. Evidently there was a psuiy
assembled in the next room, and at the first words 1
knew at once with whom we had to do— four bold
cormorants as ever sprang from the foam on the crests of
the ever-rising waves of this present generation — four
pleasant young fellows whose existence was problemati-
cal, since they were not known to possess either stock
or landed estates, yet they lived, and lived well. These
ingenious condottieri of a modern industrialism, that has
come to be the most ruthless of all warfares, leave
anxieties to their creditors, and keep the pleasures for
themselves. They are careful for nothing, save dress.
Still, with courage of the Jean Bart order, that will smoke
cigars on a barrel of powder (perhaps by way of keeping
up their character), with a quizzing humour that outdoes
the minor newspapers, sparing no one, not even them-
selves ; clear-sighted, wary, keen after business, grasping
yet open-handed, envious yet self-complacent, profound
politicians by fits and starts, analysing everything, guess-
ing everythmg — not one of these in question as yet had
contrived to make his way in the world which they
chose for their scene of operations. Only one of the
four, indeed, had succeeded in coming as far as the foot
of the ladder.

To have money is nothing ; the self-made man only
finds out all that he lacks after six months of flatteries.
Andoche Finot, the self-made man in question, stiflF,
taciturn, cold, and dull-witted, possessed the sort of spirit
which will not shrink from grovelling before any
creature that may be of use to him, and the cunning to
be insolent when he needs a man no longer. Like one
of the grotesque figures in the ballet in Gustaviy he was
a marquis behind, a boor in front. And this high-
priest of commerce had a following.

The Firm of Nucingen 1 5 1

Eoiile Blondet, Tournalist, with abundance of intel-
lectual power, reduess, brilliant, and indolent, could do
anything that he chose, yet he submitted to be exploited
with his eyes open. Treacherous or kind upon im-
pulse, a man to love, but not to respect ; quick-witted
as a sinbrettBy unable to refuse his pen to any one that
asked, or his heart to the first that would borrow it,
Emile was the most £ucinating of those light-of-loves of
whom a fimtastic modern wit declared that ^ he liked
them better in satin slippers than in boots.'

The third in the party. Couture by name, lived by
speculation, grafting one afiairupon another to make
the gains pay for the losses. He was always between
wind and water, keeping himself afloat by his bold,
sudden strokes and the nervous energy of his play.
Hither and thither he would swim over the vast sea of
interests in Paris, in quest of some little isle that should
be so £»* a debatable land that he might abide upon it.
Clearly Couture was not in his proper place.

As for the fourth and most malicious personage, his
name will be enough — it was Bixiou ! Not (alas !) the
Bixiou of 1825, but the Bixiou of 1836, a misanthropic
buffoon, acknowledged supreme, by reason of his ener-
getic and caustic wit ; a very fiend let loose now that he
saw how he had squandered his intellect in pure waste ;
a Bixiou vexed by the thought that he had not come by
his share of the wreckage in the last Revolution ; a
Bixiou with a kick for every one, like Pierrot at the
Funambules. Bixiou had the whole history of his own
times at his finger-ends, more particularly its scandalous
chronicle, embellished by added waggeries of his own.
He sprang like a clown upon everybody's back, only to
do his utmost to leave the executioner's brand upon
evory pair of shoulders.

Tne first cravings of gluttony satisfied, our neigh-
bours reached the stage at which we also had arrived,
to wit, the dessert; and, as we made no sign, they

The Firm of Nucingen 153

Bixiou's changes of voice, as he acted the parts of the
various persons, must have been perfect, judging by the
applause and admiring comments that broke from his
audience of three.

^ Then did Rastignac refuse ? ' asked Blondet, appar-
ently addressing Finot.

* Point blank.'

' But did you threaten him with the newspapers ? '
asked Bixiou.

* He began to laugh,' returned Finot.

^ Rastignac is the late lamented de Marsay's direct
heir ; he will make his way politically as well as socially,'
commented Blondet.

' But how did he make his money ? ' asked Couture.
^In 1 819 both he and the illustrious Bianchon lived in a
shabby boarding-house in the Latin Quarter ; his people
ate roast cockchafers and drank their own wine so as to
send him a hundred francs every month. His father's
property was not worth a thousand crowns ; he had two
sisters and a brother on his hands, and now '

' Now he has an income of forty thousand livres,' con-
tinued Finot ; ^ his sisters had a handsome fortune apiece
and married into noble families ; he leaves his mother a
life interest in the property '

'Even in 1827 I have known him without a penny,'
said Blondet.

' Oh ! in 1827,' 5^'^ Bixiou.

* Well,' resumed Finot, * yet to-day, as we see, he is in
a fair way to be a Minister, a peer of France — anything
that he likes. He broke decently with Delphine three
years ago ; he will not marry except on good grounds j
and he may marry a girl of noble family. The chap
had the sense to take up with a wealthy woman.'

*My friends, give him the benefit of extenuating
circumstances,' urged Blondet. ' When he escaped the
clutches of want, he dropped into the claws of a very
clever man.'

1 54 The Firm of Nucingen

f You know what Nucingen it/ said Bixiou« ^ In the
early days, Delphine and Rastignac thought him ^ good-
natured " ; he seemed to regard a wife as a phivthinfl;, an
ornament in his house. And that very £ict snowed me
that the man was square at the base as well as in heieht,'
added Bixiou. 'Nucingen makes no bones about
admitting that his wife is his fortune ; she is aui indis-
pensable chattel, but a wife takes a second place in the
high-pressure life of a political leader and great capitalist.
He once said in my hearing that Bonaparte had
blundered like a bourgeois in his early relations with
Josephine ; and that after he had had the spirit to use
her as a stepping-stone, he had made himself ridiculous
by trying to make a companion of her.'

'Any man of unusual powers is bound to take
Oriental views of women/ said Blondet.

' The Baron blended the opinions of East and West
in a charming Parisian creed. He abhorred de Marsay ;
de Marsay was unmanageable, but with Rastignac he was
much pleased ; he exploited him, though Rastienac was
not aware of it. All the burdens of married life were
put on him. Rastignac bore the brunt of Delphine's
whims ; he escorted her to the Bois de Boulogne ; he
went with her to the play ; and the little politician and
great man of to-day spent a good deal of his life at that
time in writing dainty notes. Eugene was scolded for
little nothings from the first; he was in good spirits
when Delphine was cheerful, and drooped when she
felt low ; he bore the weight of her confidences and
her ailments ; he gave up his time, the hours of his
precious youth, to fill the empty void of that fair
Parisian's idleness. Delphine and he held high councib
on the toilettes which went best together ; he stood the
fire of bad temper and broadsides of pouting fits, while
she, by way of trimming the balance, was verv nice to
the Baron. As for the Baron, he laughed in his sleeve ;
but whenever he saw that Rastignac was bending under

The Firm of Nucingen 155

the strain of the burden, he made ^^as if he suspected
something," and reunited the lovers by a common
dread.'

^ I can imagine that a wealthy wife would have put
Rastig^ac in the way of a living, and an honourable
living, but where did he pick up his fortune ? ' asked
Couture. * A fortune so considerable as his at the pre-
sent day must come from somewhere ; and nobody ever
accused him of inventing a good stroke of business.'

^Somebody left it to him,' said Finot.

« Who ? ' asked Blondet.

*Some fool that he came across,' suggested Couture.

^ He did not steal the whole of it, my little dears,'
said Bixiou.

* Let not your terrors rise to fever-heat.
Our age is lenient with those that cheat.

Now, I will tell you about the beginnings of his for-
tune. In the first place, honour to talent 1 Our friend
is not a ^' chap," as Finot describes him, but a gentleman
in the English sense, who knows the cards and knows
the game ; whom, moreover, the gallery respects. Ras-
dgnac has quite as much intelligence as is needed at a
given moment, as if a soldier should make his courage
payable at ninety days' sight, with three witnesses and
guarantees. He may seem captious, wrong-headed, in-
consequent, vacillating, and without any fixed opinions ;
but let something serious turn up, some combination to
scheme out, he will not scatter himself like Blondet here,
who chooses these occasions to look at things from his
neighbour's point of view. Rastignac concentrates him-
self, pulls himself together, looks for the point to carry
by storm, and goes full tilt for it. He charges like a
Murat, breaks squares, pounds away at shareholders, pro-
moters, and the whole shop, and returns, when the breach
is made, to his lazy, careless life. Once more he becomes
the man of the South, the man of pleasure, the trifling,

156 The Firm of Nudngen

idle Rastdgnac He his earned die right of Ijing in bed
till noon because a crisis never finds him asleep/

'So far so good, but just get to his fortune/ said
Finot.

' Biziou will dash that off at a stroke,' replied Blondet.
^Rastignac*s fortune was Delphine de Nucingen, a
remarkable wonun; she combines boldness with fore-
sight.'

' Did she ever lend you money ? * inquired Bixiou«
Everybody burst out laughing.

* I ou are mistaken in her, said Couture, speaking to
Blondet ; ' her cleverness simply consist in making more
or less piquant remarks, in loving Rastignac with tedious
fidelity, and obeying him blindly. She is a regubr
Italian.'

' Money apart,' Andoche Finot put in sourly.

' Oh, come, come,' said Bixiou coaxingly ; ' after what
we have just been saying, will you venture to blame
poor Rastignac for living at the expense of the firm of
Nucingen, for being installed in furnished rooms pre-
cisely as La Torpille was once installed by our fnend
des Lupeaulx ? You would sink to the vulgarity of the
Rue Saint- Denis! First of all, "in the abstract," as
Royer-Collard says, the question may abide the Kritik
of Pure Reason ; as for the impure reason *

* There he goes ! ' said Finot, turning to Blondet.

' But there is reason in what he says,' exclaimed
Blondet. ' The problem is a very old one ; it was the
grand secret of the famous duel between La Chatai-
gneraie and Jarnac. It was cast up to Jarnac that he was
on good terms with his mother-in-law, who, loving him
only too well, equipped him sumptuously. When a
thing is so true, it ought not to be said. Out of devo-
tion to Henry 11., who permitted himself this slander.
La Ch^taigneraie took it upon himself, and there fol-
lowed the duel which enriched the French language
with the expression coup de Jarnac.^

The Firm of Nucingen 157

' Oh ! does it go so far back ? Then it is noble ? '
said Finot.

' As proprietor of newspapers and reviews of old stand-
ing, you are not bound to know that,' said Biondet.

* There are women,' Bixiou gravely resumed, * and for
that matter, men too, who can cut their lives in two
and give away but one-half, (Remark how I word my
phrase for you in humanitarian language.) For these,
all material interests lie without the range of senti-
ment. They give their time, their life, their honour to
a woman, and hold that between themselves it is not the
thing to meddle with bits of tissue paper bearing the
legend, *^ Forgery is punishable with death J*^ And equally
they will take nothing from a woman. Yes, the whole
thing is debased if fusion of interests follows on fusion of
souls. This is a doctrine much preached, and very
seldom practised.'

* Oh, what rubbish ! ' cried Biondet. * The Marechal
de Richelieu understood something of gallantry, and he
settled an allowance of a thousand louis d'or on Mme. de
la Popeliniere after that affair of the hiding-place behind
the hearth. Agnes Sorel, in all simplicity, took her
fortune to Charles vii., and the King accepted it.
Jacques Coeur kept the crown for France ; he was
allowed to do it, and, womanlike, France was un-
grateful.'

^ Gentlemen,' said Bixiou, ^ a love that does not imply
an indissoluble friendship, to my thinking, is momentary
libertinage. What sort of entire surrender is it that
keeps something back ? Between these two diametri-
cally opposed doctrines, the one as profoundly immoral
as the other, there is no possible compromise. It seems
to me that any shrinking from a complete union is surely
due to a belief that the union cannot last, and if so, fare-
well to illusion. The passion that does not believe that
it will last for ever is a hideous thing. (Here is pure
unadulterated Fenelon for you !) At the same time,

f6o J'h<; Viffu ttt Nucingen

*WltMf flo yoM wmii with fhe wftiitrf' MiMrd

Mil ti'^r ii|i my TO.!/, ;irifl ^-f my foii^fir, frr^/

*( hi nh wiflf your «»t</r)r/ ii;i|/| l'iri//f, mMbifif/ (MrlieVtf

' I f;ikr y'Hi aU In wiiitt'%% liiiti I Mm not fh^r |yrfifMfrfy

worth iM/ twtft' ih4n Uvt: huiit\i*'i\ itAitt%, Yom will

%i\t'W9'%, '\ Im'M', my {f/ttn\ I'iit'/f/ Im: m'I«M %*HtlUUif(}ym
*l wtW [ft'l ffii wiiii m/ %inty wilhnul |if rvmMlifie%| minI
w*: %Ua\\ Im' /|iiif«/

' N//w/ V/iifl O/Mfiir^ wfflf M «mfk, * Ur will l»fif/iff f/«
\itnvt: int nm \tt'itf'.Ul iUaI N(i/irif/^n m/i/j^: MM^fl^rijttS

' V'ffi >ir«' itnl ^/ fiir 'iiif <i« yoti fhiiik/ r«fiifiiry<l
Miffi'/M. ' Ynu tin itni ktinw wUaI Nuiiityr.h i%^ UuHlf

' l/o ///Il inow v/ unuU »% A w'/fl ii4 fo hi% Uf.^Ut^
iiiiif/4^' <i^le''f| hl'/fi'lM,

M Imv^: oi»I'/ kiinwh Uiin in lii« 'rwri hoii^/ «;iiJ
Hixi'/iiy ' Ifiif w«: riM/ iMvr %t:fit pa* It tiih'.t in fh#^ Mreel
III thf olrl fUy^/

''IIm- \m/%\tt:tiiy nl thf- firm ni NfiMiif/rn U 'm#; //f
lU$: twf^l tHlfiinnlihAty fhiii^,^ ««r«'ii m f/iir «lMy!i/ Urf^i
Hl'/iifl«'f. Mil iH'//^ NfiMif|/rir« iMim' wii« %4i»n$'.ly
kntiwn, Al ihul Urn*- JMiikfrr^ wnuU\ fi«v«' %hutUU*,feA
aI lUf*. \iU'A t,i lUft't' UnhtUt'ti iUiiu%Aw\ ifAitf^* wntlh ot
U\% AH t'^/VAiif t'% th ih- ifMflcM, 'IIm- IC'x' f A\tilA\\%^ Mi
\n% iniftinfilys tltr// wa^ Ut- In {tt-l itiittwn f 11^ «ii«<
p«ii'l^/| |iM/iiiM)f. f iiHul ^ i',*/t ty ntiitkfl lAuy^ wffll II
UAu\t' U\lh9finnu\y kiinwii in Llirf^}fOiii|/ >iii'l ih* ^ftjAffifif
l'ni%tiniuiitft'» II'' i^^fiH tlr\HMl f tflitnAli'% ioit'i% ffffrfl*
tor«, mi'l fr%um*'t\ \tAyttt*'nl \ Inflhw'ilU \trnuU'. fl^tew
At t ti%lnini't\ In lii^ |m|/m hII tivn t'lAfitf., I Im;ii nii

The Firm of Nucingen 1 6 1

unheard-of thing happened — his paper revived, was in
demand, and rose in value, Nucingen's paper was much
inquired for. The year 1815 arrives, my banker calls in
his capital, buys up Government stock before the battle
of Waterloo, suspends payment again in the thick of the
crisis, and meets his engagements with shares in the
Wortschin mines, which he himself issued at twenty per
cent, more than he gave for them ! Yes, gentlemen ! —
He took a hundred and fifty thousand bottles of cham-
pagne of Grandet to cover himself (foreseeing the failure
of the virtuous parent of the present Comte d'Aubrion),
and as much Bordeaux wine of Duberghe at the same
time. Those three hundred thousand bottles which he
took over (and took over at thirty sous a-piece, my dear
boy) he supplied at the price of six francs per bottle to
the Allies in the Palais Royal during the foreign occu-
pation, between 1817 and 1819. Nucingen's name and
his paper acquired a European celebrity. The illustrious
Baron, so far from being engulfed like others, rose the
higher for calamities. Twice his arrangements had
paid holders of his paper uncommonly well ; he try to
swindle them ? Impossible. He is supposed to be as
honest a man as you will find. When he suspends pay-
ment a third time, his paper will circulate in Asia,
Mexico, and Australia, among the aborigines. No one
but Ouvrard saw through this Alsacien banker, the son of
some Jew or other converted by ambition ; Ouvrard said,
"When Nucingen lets gold go, you may be sure that it
is to catch diamonds." '

*His crony, du Tillet, is just such another,* said
Finot. ^And, mind you, that of birth du Tillet has
just precisely so much as is necessary to exist ; the chap
had not a farthing in 18 14, and you see what he is
now ; and he has done something that none of us has
managed to do (I am not speaking of you. Couture), he
has had friends instead of enemies. In fact, he has kept
his past life so quiet, that unless you rake the sewers you

L

1 62 The Firm of Nucingcn

arc not likely to find out that he was an assistant in a
perfumer's shop in the Rue Saint Honore, no further
back than 1814/

' Tut, tut, tut ! ' said Bixiou, ^ do not think of com-
paring Nucingen with a little dabbler like du Tillet, a
jackal that gets on in life through his sense of smell.
He scents a carcase by instinct, and comes in time to get
the best bone. Besides, just look at the two men. The
one has a sharp-pointed face like a cat, he is thin and
lanky ; the other is cubical, fat, heavy as a sack, imper-
turbable as a diplomatist. Nucingen has a thick, heavy
hand, and lynx eyes that never light up ; his depths are
not in front, but behind ; he is inscrutable, you never see
what he is making for. Whereas du Tillet's cunning,
as Napoleon said of somebody (I have forgotten the
name), is like cotton spun too nne, it breaks.'

^ I do not myself see that Nucingen has any advantage
over du Tillet/ said Blondet, ' unless it is that he has the
sense to see that a capitalist ought not to rise higher
than a baron's rank, while du Tillet has a mind to be an
Italian count.'

* Blondet — one word, my boy,' put in Couture. ' In
the first place, Nucingen dared to say that honesty is
simply a question of appearances ; and secondly, to know
him well you must be in business yourself. With him
banking is but a single department, and a very small
one ; he holds Government contracts for wines, wools,
indigoes — anything, in short, on which any profit can be
made. He has an all-round genius. The elephant of
finance would contract to deliver votes on a division, or
the Greeks to the Turks. For him business means the
sum-total of varieties ; as Cousin would say, the unity of
specialities. Looked at in this way, banking becomes a
kind of statecraft in itself, requiring a powerful head ;
and a man thoroughly tempered is drawn on to set
himself above the laws of a morality that cramps him.'

^ Right, my son,' said Blondet ; ^ but we, and we alone,

The Firm of Nucingen 163

can comprehend that this means bringing war into the
financial world. A banker is a conquering general
making sacrifices on a tremendous scale to gain ends
that no one perceives ; his soldiers are private people's
interests. He has stratagems to plan out, partisans to
bring into the field, ambushes to set, towns to take.
Most men of this stamp are so close upon the borders of
politics, that in the end they are drawn into public life,
and thereby lose their fortunes. The firm of Necker,
for instance, was ruined in this way ; the famous Samuel
Bernard was all but ruined. Some great capitalist in
every age makes a colossal fortune, and leaves behind
him neither fortune nor a family ; there was the firm
of Paris Brothers, for instance, that helped to pull down
Law; there was Law himself (beside whom other pro-
moters of companies are but pigmies) ; there was Bouret
and Beaujon — none of them left any representative.
Finance, like Time, devours its own children. If the
banker is to perpetuate himself, he must found a noble
house, a dynasty ; like the Fuggers of Antwerp, that
lent money to Charles v. and were created Princes of
Babenhausen, a family that exists at this day — in the
jllmanach de Gotha. The instinct* of self-preservation,
working it may be unconsciously, leads the banker to
seek a title. Jacques Coeur was the founder of the great
noble house of Noirmoutier, extinct in the reign of
Louis XIII. What power that man had ! He was
ruined for making a legitimate king ; and he died, prince
of an island in the Archipelago, where he built a magni-
ficent cathedral.'

^ Oh ! you are giving us a historical lecture, we are
wandering away from the present ; the crown has no
right of conferring nobility, and barons and counts are
made with closed doors ; more is the pity ! ' said Finot.

* You regret the times of the savonnette a vilain^ when
you could buy an office that ennobled ? ' asked Bixiou.
'You are right. Je reviens a nos moutons. — Do you

r^ The Firm of Nucingen

wivw Bcaudenord ? No ? no ? no ? Ah, well ! See
lew X.1 :hings pass away ! Poor fellow, ten years aso
ie mis :hc tlower of dandyism ; and now, so thoroughly
iJ^c^>^: chat you no more know him than Finot just
!vw cnew the origin of the expression ^^coupdejamac^
— 1 repeat chat simply for the sake of illustration, and
ICC ro tease you, Finot. Well, it is a fact, he belonged
:v :ac Faubourg Saint-Germain.

* Scjudenord is the first pigeon that I will bring
^1 chc scene. And, in the first place, his name was
v.H>icrVoid de Beaudenord ; neither Finot, nor Blondet,
icr Couture, nor I are likely to undervalue such an
iuvxitJige as that ! After a ball, when a score of
^cecv women stand behooded waiting for their car-
•a^cs with their husbands and adorers at their sides,
iciiuJcnord could hear his people called without a pang
^x .nortilication. In the second place, he rejoiced in the
uil complement of limbs ; he was whole and sound, had
K> note in his eyes, no false hair, no artificial calves; he
>«^x ucither knock-kneed nor bandy-legged, his dorsal
^vHumii was straight, his waist slender, his hands white
uio :»ha^x:ly. His hair was black ; he was of a com-
HC\ion neither too pink, like a grocer's assistant, nor yet
av brown, like a Calabrese. Finally, and this is an
.-»9C<iiial point, Beaudenord was not too handsome, like
vaic of our friends that look rather too much of profes-
x.oaul beauties to be anything else ; but no more
.•; that ; we have said it, it is shocking ! Well,
V vHiU 4 crack shot, and sat a horse to admiration ; he
w tought a duel for a trifle, and had not killed his

' It vou wish to know in what pure, complete, and

.^laoultciated happiness consists in this Nineteenth

v'^aiui y in Paris — the happiness, that is to say, of a young

u^a v*x twenty-six — do you realise that you must enter

:i;o ihc infinitely small details of existence ? Beaudenord's

Xv^aukcr had precisely hit ofF his style of foot ; he was

The Firm of Nucingen 165

well shod; his tailor loved to clothe him. Godefroid
neither rolled his r's, nor lapsed into Normanisms nor
Gascon ; he spoke pure and correct French, and tied
his cravat correctly (like Finot). He had neither
father nor mother — such luck had he! — and his guardian
was the Marquis d'Aiglemont, his cousin by marriage.
He could go among city people as he chose, and the
Faubourg Saint-Germain could make no objection ; for,
fortunately, a young bachelor is allowed to make his own
pleasure his sole rule of life, he is at liberty to betake
himself wherever amusement is to be found, and to shun
the gloomy places where cares flourish and multiply.
Finally, he had been vaccinated (you know what I mean,
Blondet).

^And yet, in spite of all these virtues,' continued
Bixiou, * he might very well have been a- very unhappy
young man. Eh ! eh ! that word happiness, unhappily,
seems to us to mean something absolute, a delusion
which sets so many wiseacres inquiring what happiness
is. A very clever woman said that '^Happiness was
where you chose to put it."'

^She formulated a dismal truth,' said Blondet.

^ And a moral,' added Finot.

^Double distilled,' said Blondet. 'Happiness, like
Good, like Evil, is relative. Wherefore La Fontaine
used to hope that in course of time the damned would
feel as much at home in hell as a fish in water.'

' La Fontaine's sayings are known in Philistia ! ' put
in Bixiou.

' Happiness at six-and-twenty in Paris is not the happi-
ness of six-and-t wen ty at — say Blois,' continued Blondet,
taking no notice of the interruption. ' And those that
proceed from this text to rail at the instability of
opinion are either knaves or fools for their pains.
Modern medicine, which passed (it is its fairest title
to glory) from a hypothetical to a positive science,
through the influence of the great analytical school of

1 66 The Firm of Nucingen

Pm%f has proTcd beyond a doubt that a man is periodi-
cally renewed throughout *

^ New haft, new blade, like Jeannot's knife, and yet
you think that he is still the same man,' broke in Bixiou.
'So there are several lozenges in the harlequin's coat
that we call happiness; and — well, there was neither
hole nor stain in this Godefroid^s costume. A young
man of six-and- twenty, who would be happy in love,
who would be loved, that is to say, not for his blossom-
ing youth, nor for his wit, nor for his figure, but spon-
taneously, and not even merely in return for his own
love ; a young man, I say, who has found love in the
abstract, to quote Royer-Collard, might yet very possibly
find never a farthing in the purse which She, loving and
beloved, embroidered for him ; he might owe rent to his
landlord ; he might be unable to pay the bootmaker before
mentioned ; his very tailor, like France herself, might at
last show signs of disaffection. In short, he might have
love and yet be poor. And poverty spoils a young man's
happiness, unless he holds our transcendental views of
the fusion of interests. I know nothing more wearing
than happiness within combined with adversity without.
It b as if you had one leg freezing in the draught from
the door, and the other half-roasted by a brazier — as I
have at this moment. I hope to be understood. Comes
there an echo from thy waistcoat-pocket, Blondet?
Between ourselves, let the heart alone, it spoils the
intellect.

^Let us resume. Godefroid de Beaudenord was
respected by his tradespeople, for they were paid with
tolerable regularity. The witty woman before quoted
^I cannot give her name, for she is still living, thanks
to her want of heart '

< Who is this ? '

'The Marquise d'Espard. She said that a young
man ought to live on an entre-sol ; there should be no
sign of domesticity about the place; no cook, no kitchen,

The Firm of Nucingen 167

an old man-servant to wait upon him, and no pretence
of a permanence. In her opinion, any other sort of
establishment is bad form. Godefroid de Beaudenord,
faithful to this programme, lodged on an entre-sol on
the Quai Malaquais ; he had, however, been obliged to
have this much in common with married couples, he
had put a bedstead in his room, though for that matter
it was so narrow that he seldom slept in it. An English-
woman might have visited his rooms and found nothing
" improper " there. Finot, vou have yet to learn the
great law of the " Improper that rules Britain. But,
for the sake of the bond between us — that bill for a
thousand francs — I will just give you some idea of it. I
have been in England myself. — I will give him wit
enough for a couple of thousand,' he added in an aside
to Blondet.

*In England, Finot, you grow extremely intimate
with a woman in the course of an evening, at a ball or
wherever it is ; next day you meet her in the street and
look as though you knew her again — " improper." — At
dinner you discover a delightful man beneath your left-
hand neighbour's dress-coat ; a clever man ; no high
mightiness, no constraint, nothing of an Englishman
about him. In accordance with the tradition of French
breeding, so urbane, so gracious as they are, you address
your neighbour — " improper." — At a ball you walk up
to a pretty woman to ask her to dance — " improper."
You wax enthusiastic, you argue, laugh, and give your-
self out, you fling yourself heart and soul into the con-
versation, you give expression to your real feelings, you
play when you are at the card-table, chat while you chat,
eat while you eat — " improper ! improper ! improper ! "
Stendhal, one of the cleverest and profoundest minds of
the age, hit off the " improper " excellently well when
he said that such-and-such a British peer did not dare to
cross his legs when he sat alone before his own hearth
for fear of being improper. An English gentlewoman.

?.{ Tbt Fsn cf Nndngen

ste axe af rbr nine ^ bBntt" — that /nost straitest
«:= :r ?T:rrirT.r3 The vniuc Icare their whole &inily
11 sarrs .: iiu sli nTn"T did jLOTthing "improper** —
ICE T 7UC1 1:1* orucf's 9VX aei^fht in her bedroom, and
nssx Ti:c ^^ - iii.nri.ner.'^ twt sbc would look on herself
!» iiisz .: Siif£ rscr. i cz a iisit 5-cnn a man of her acquaint-
LJCt ^ zz/i iTzrss^z r:oa. Thanks to propriety,
l.:co:c u-i !:3 :*>.ib:ra=3 wiH be found petrified some

.L

[zJL zhiz tbere arc asses here in France

• •

::! ir nzpDct tbe soUcmn tomfbolerj that the
£ krsc ::r iTvrc.g ihemsckes with that admir-
z.rjs ia£:l:-'pcsi<ss;:c which tou know!* added Blondet.
is CDJux^ tD make anj man shudder if he has
:be EntL-sh at hc^ae, and recollects the charm-
:-*:, crar:r-;:s Frc:i>ci sxrjicrs. Sir Walter Scott was
ifr^z ro pa:-: wc^ricn as ihcr arc for fear of being
*' larcc^cT " ; mi 1: the dose of his life repented of
the crcabcc of tbc rrca: character of Effic in The Heart

* Do T-ou wisi not to be " improper ** in England ? '
askoi BixSoc, lidicssin^ Finot.

* Well r •

^Go to the Tuiicries and look at a figure there,
somethiDg like a nrcman carred in marble (^^ Themis-
tocles** the stattianr calls it), tnr to walk like the
Commandant*s statue, and tou will never be ^' improper.**
It was through strict obscn-ance of the great law of the
Improper that Godefroid*s happiness became complete.
Here is the stonr : —

^ Beaudenord had a tiger, not a ^' groom,** as they
write that know nothing of society. The tiger, a
diminutive Irish page, called Paddy, Toby, Joby (which
TOU please), was three feet in height by twenty inches
m breadth, a weasel-faced infant, with nerves of steel
tempered in fire-water, and agile as a squirrel. He
drove a landau with a skill neTcr yet at fiiult in Liondon

The Firm of Nucingcn 169

or Paris, He had a lizard's eve, as sharp as my own,
and he could mount a horse hke the elder Franconi.
With the rosy cheeks and yellow hair of one of Rubens's
Madonnas, he was double-fiiced as a prince, and as
knowing as an old attorney ; in short, at the age of ten
he was nothing more nor less than a blossom of depravity,
gambling and swearing, partial to jam and punch, pert
zs z feuilUtony impudent and light-fingered as any Paris
street-arab. He had been a source of honour and profit
to a well-known English lord, for whom he had already
won seven hundred thousand francs on the racecourse.
The aforesaid nobleman set no small store on Tobv.
His tiger was a curiosity, the very smallest tiger in
town. Perched aloft on the back of a thoroughbred,
Joby looked like a hawk. Yet — the great man dis-
missed him. Not for greediness, not for dishonesty,
nor murder, nor for criminal conversation, nor for bad
manners, nor rudeness to my lady, nor for cutting
holes in my lady's own woman s pockets, nor because he
had been '^ got at " by some of his master's rivals on the
turf, nor for playing games of a Sunday, nor for bad
behaviour of any sort or description. Toby might have
done all these things, he might even have spoken to
milord before milord spoke to him, and his noble master
might, perhaps, have pardoned that breach of the law
domestic. Milord would have put up with a good deal
from Toby ; he was very fond of him. Toby could
drive a tandem dog-cart, riding on the wheeler, postillion
fashion ; his legs did not reach the shafts, he looked in
fieict very much like one of the cherub heads circling
about the Eternal Father in old Italian pictures. But
an English journalist wrote a delicious description of the
little angel, in the course of which he said that Paddy
was quite too pretty for a tiger; in fact, he offered to bet
that Paddy was a tame tigress. The description, on
the heads of it, was calculated to poison minds and end
in something *^ improper." And the superlative of

«u\.

•,'ic U}\ind the infant weeping over a pot of jan

A^ ^reaJv lost the guineas with which milon

tis misfortune). Godefroid took possession o

.. ^lii ^^ it fell out that on his return among us h<

.^^-w ?acic with him the sweetest thing in tigers fron

^ j-jc. He was known by his tiger — as Couture i

^«.: >v his waistcoats — and found no difficulty ii

_ 'j: the fraternity of the club yclept to-day th

.*^t.!KMit. He had renounced the diplomatic career

>. ..«>cc .iccordingly to alarm the susceptibilities of th

...>. ous ; and as he had no very dangerous amount c

,*-.?vc, he was well looked upon everywhere.

NNiic of us would feel mortified if we saw onl

.:j; faces wherever we went; we enjoy the sou

w.v**iUons of envy. Godefroid did not like to be dis
<«>». Kvery one has his taste. Now for the solic
, ^..vil aspects of life !

'/>c distinguishing feature of his chambers, where

'•«•« .icked my lips over breakfast more than once, wa

>(crious dressing-closet, nicely decorated, and con]

appointed, with a grate in it and a bath-tub. 1

upon a narrow staircase, the folding doors wer

the locks well oiled, the hinges discreet, th

I 3f frosted glass, the curtain impervious t

II 1^ th^ hpHrnnm ixras. a« it miahf tn hav

The Firm of Nucingen 171

draughts from door or window, the carpet had been made
soft for bare feet hastily put to the floor in a sudden panic
of alarm — which stamps him as your thoroughbred dandy
that knows life ; for here, in a few moments, he may show
himself either a noodle or a master in those little details
in which a man's character is revealed. The Marquise
previously quoted — no, it was the Marquise de Roche-
fide — came out of that dressing-closet in a furious rage,
and never went back again. She discovered nothing
" improper " in it. Godefroid used to keep a little cup-
board full of '

* Waistcoats ? ' suggested Finot.

* Come, now, just like you, great Turcaret that you
arc. (I shall never form that fellow.) Why, no. Full
of cakes, and fruit, and dainty little flasks of Malaga and
Lunel ; an en cas de nuit in Louis Quatorze's style ;
anything that can tickle the delicate and well-bred appe-
tite of sixteen quarterings. A knowing old man-servant,
very strong in matters veterinary, waited on the horses
and groomed Godefroid. He had been with the late
M. de Beaudenord, Godefroid^s father, and bore Gode-
froid an inveterate aflPection, a kind of heart complaint
which has almost disappeared among domestic servants
since savings banks were established.

*A11 material wellbeing is based upon arithmetic.
You, to whom Paris is known down to its very excres-
cences, will see that Beaudenord must have required about
seventeen thousand livres per annum ; for he paid some
seventeen francs of taxes and spent a thousand crowns
on his own whims. Well, dear boys, when Godefroid
came of age, the Marquis d'Aiglemont submitted to him
such an account of his trust as none of us would be likely
to give a nephew; Godefroid's name was inscribed as
the owner of eighteen thousand livres of rentes^ a rem-
nant of his father's wealth spared by the harrow of the
great reduction under the Republic and the hailstorms
of Imperial arrears. D'Aiglemont, that upright guardian.

172 The Firm of Nudngen

also put his ward in poi scn ion of tome thirty thousand
francs of savings invested with the firm of Nucingen ;
saying with all the charm of a grand seigneur and the
indulgence of a soldier of the Empire, that he had con-
trived to put it aside for his ward's young man's follies.
^ If you will take my advice, Godcfroid," added he,
*^ instead of squandering the money like a fool, as so
many young men do, let it go in follies that will be
useful to you afterwards. Take an attache's post at
Turin, and then go to Naples, and from Naples to
London, and you will be amused and learn something
for your money. Afterwards, if you think of a career,
the time and the money will not have been thrown
away." The late lamented d'Aiglemont had more sense
than people credited him with, which is more than can
be said of some of us.'

^ A young fellow that starts with an assured income
of eighteen thousand livres at one-and-twenty is lost,'
said Couture.'

* Unless he is miserly, or very much above the ordinary
level,' added Blondet.

*Well, Godefroid sojourned in the four capitals of
Italy,' continued Bixiou. *He lived in England and
Germany, he spent some little time at St. Petersburg,
he ran over Holland ; but he parted company with the
aforesaid thirty thousand francs by living as if he had
thirty thousand a year. Everywhere he found the same
supreme de volatile^ the same aspics, and French wines ;
he heard French spoken wherever he went — in short, he
never got away from Paris. He ought, of course, to
have tried to deprave his disposition, to fence himself in
triple brass, to get rid of his illusions, to learn to hear
anything said without a blush, and to master the
inmost secrets of the Powers. — Pooh ! with a good deal
of trouble he equipped himself with four languages —
that is to say, he laid in a stock of four words for one
idea. Then he came back, and certain tedious dowagers.

The Firm of Nucingen 173

styled ** conquests" abroad, were left disconsolate.
Godefroid came back, shy, scarcely formed, a good
fellow with a confiding disposition, incapable of saying
ill of any one who honoured him with an admittance to
his house, too staunch to be a diplomatist, altogether
he was what we call a thoroughly good fellow.'

^ To cut it short, a brat with eighteen thousand livres
per annum to drop over the first investment that turns
up,' said Couture.

^ That confounded Couture has such a habit of antici-
pating dividends, that he is anticipating the end of my
tale. Where was I ? Oh ! Beaudenord came back.
When he took up his abode on the Quai Malaquais, it
came to pass that a thousand francs over and above his
needs was altogether insufEcient to keep up his share of
a box at the Italiens and the Opera properly. When he
lost twenty-five or thirty louis at play at one swoop,
naturally he paid ; when he won, he spent the money ;
so should we if we were fools enough to be drawn into
a bet. Beaudenord, feeling pinched with his eighteen
thousand francs, saw the necessity of creating what we
to-day call a balance in hand. It was a great notion of
his ^^not to get too deep." He took counsel of his
sometime guardian. *^ The funds are now at par, my
dear boy," quoth d' Aidemont ; ^^ sell out. I have sold
out mine and my wifes. Nucingen has all my capital,
and is giving me six per cent. ; do likewise, you will
have one per cent, the more upon your capital, and with
that you will be quite comfortable."

^ In three days' time our Godefroid was comfortable.
His increase of income exactly supplied his superfluities ;
his material happiness was complete.

^Suppose that it were possible to read the minds of all
the young men in Paris at one glance (as, it appears, will
be done at the Day of Judgment with all the millions
upon millions that have grovelled in all spheres, and
worn all uniforms or the uniform of nature), and to ask

Tie Fam of Nucingcn

xsmaicK IX Bz-and-twcnty is or is not
UT n "TIC Tiilimr^ar items — to wit, to own a saddle-
it-rn: a:ti l t.bu-r, :r i ab, with a fresh, rosy-feced
" .'.rip aiT' ^TWTT ar 2»i£:rcr than your fist, and to
nr-t or u:::nrir,iT.;nJg nrc«aeham for twelve francs an
.' -jri.r^ r; ;:^nar ejepcrlr arrared, agreeably to the
i:»^ rr^- -^uisirt t iss,z\ cjodns, at eight o'clock, noon,
;.ui- 2 ;:i:>c£. :t rzu L r j s i :i xc^ and in the evening ; to be
vrL'l 's^^'-'Si a r-=-r ezihasFT, and to cull the short-
: -Ti r;wr> n" »jser£ci&l, cosmopolitan friendships;
• Tt: n.i: ir^uxtfrrxTLT staaaac, to carry your head,
.'ii- r.*:,. uM ^nir ssstf weil ; to inhalnt a charming
: •:- rr.:'^-v.■l arrsr ms ru-ttera of the rooms just de-
^-- *t:-« ;ir Tttr ^us. ,V;r;arxa:g ; ro be able to ask a party
.' '-TTv^s *: ;2::t* a: rxis -Virfcr*- de Cawcale without a
--• ' >i>» •• ?T>ii:"acinr wr rt T:*ur trtciscrs' pocket ; never
•. ?t: ni. r, i:r :r ltt nriccii project by the words,
' *. n. -re n^nru*' * *" ij:\z zjssHt^ ro be able to renew at
nvj<;:-: :iu r»:r.t -.Tsrrrss thai aiosn the ears of three
:>.v.>,:^r.n'i»is ;*:i: rn; i.r.sir of toit hat?

• "!"; -iiicr .nru:"^ nrr nriiaarr roung man (and we
;u:'<'*-;^ :ni : a*^ ii,-c .TTCizarr mcn^ would reply that
:rti hii-^nin?*^ a- . rvr.is.njrrt , rial it is like the Madeleine
v -.'Ku- :r«t ;&':u- . rr.£.: i s;£=i sibk lore and be loved, or
i,v-: «• :Kx : -m:*T«. ,v m jm-cc without loving, or love
u *'*,T!^ rui-x-HSv N rw w hapodncss as a mental con-

" 1 r uM^a*' : >i r, i.'Tsr G^aerroic dc Beaudenord had
<': wx :r rr^ * a-ois iixraL circies which it pleased him
:r rrr?', a^c t.nr« ii» wxt alout in them, and felt
r. Tustt':: «cut irr.vt rfccst ,^7^ be saw the necessity of
& sunsiuu-^j^c^c ^riarrjtfe of baring a great lady to
C'ib;.'^*:* c*i. iraceac c^f cbewinc the stems of roses
Scuifrfc: w ixTOCBce apdccc of ^Ime. Prcvost, after
the manrxer <v rke ciIjow roungsters that chirp and
CkUc ia ^»c khSbses of the Opera, like chickens in
4 CMfk. Iq skorx, be resolved to centre his ideas, his

The Firm of Nucingen 175

sentiments, his affections upon a woman, one woman ? —
La Phamme ! Ah ! • . .

^ At first he conceived the preposterous notion of an
unhappy passion, and gyrated for a while about his fair
cousin, Mme. d'Aiglemont, not perceiving that she had
already danced the waltz in Faust with a diplomatist.
The year '25 went by, spent in tentatives, in futile
flirtations, and an unsuccessful quest. The loving object
of which he was in search did not appear. Passion is
extremely rare ; and in our time as many barriers have
been raised against passion in social life as barricades in
the streets. In truth, my brothers, the " improper " is
gaining upon us, I tell you !

* As we may incur reproach for following on the heels
of portrait painters, auctioneers, and fashionable dress-
makers, I will not inflict any description upon you of her
in whom Godefroid recognised the female of his species.
Age, nineteen; height, four feet eleven inches; fair
hair, eyebrows idemj blue eyes, forehead neither high nor
low, curved nose, little mouth, short turned-up chin,
oval face ; distinguishing signs — none. Such was the
description on the passport of the beloved object. You
will not ask more than the police, or their worships the
mayors, of all the towns and communes of France, the
gendarmes and the rest of the powers that be ? In
other respects — I give you mv word for it — she was a
rough sketch of a Venus dei Medici.

* The first time that Godefroid went to one of the
balls for which Mme. de Nucingen enjoyed a certain
not undeserved reputation, he caught a glimpse of his
future lady-love in a quadrille, and was set marvelling by
that heignt of four feet eleven inches. The &ir hair
rippled in a shower of curls about the little girlish head,
she looked as fresh as a naiad peeping out through the
crjrstal pane of her stream to take a look at the spring
flowers. (This is quite in the modern style, strings of
phrases as endless as the macaroni on the table a while

176 The Firai of Nodi^eii

ago.) On dm ^ejrchrows uim" (no aSmcc to the
p tr fect of police) Pamj, tkat writer of light and playful
verse, would have hung hatf^a-doscn cxNiplets, comparing
them Terjr agreeaUj to Cupid^s bow, at the same time
bidding us obterre that the dart was beneath ; the said
dart, however, was neither Tcry potent nor very pene-
trating, for as jct it was cootroUed bjr the namby-pamby
swee tn e s s of a MUe. de la Vallicre as depicted on fire-
screens, at the moment when she solemnises her betrothal
in the sight of heaven, any solenmisadon before the
registrar being quite out of the question.

' You know the e£fect of fiur hair and blue eyes in
the soft, voluptuous decorous dance ? Such a girl does
not knock audaciously at your heart, like the dark-haired
damsels that seem to say after the fiishion of Spanish
beggarSy ^Your money or your life; give me five
francs or take my contempt ! ** These insolent and
somewhat dangerous beauties may find favour in the
sight of many men, but to my thinking the blonde that
has the good fortune to look extremely tender and yield-
ing, while forgoing none of her rights to scold, to tease,
to use unmeasured language, to be jealous without
grounds, to do anything, in short, that makes woman
adorable, — the fiur-haired girl, I say, will always be more
sure to marry than the ardent brunette. Firewood is
dear, you see.

^Isaure, white as an Alsacienne (she first saw the
light at Strasbourg, and spoke German with a slight and
very agreeable French accent), danced to admiration.
Her feet, omitted on the passport, though they really
might have found a place there under the heading Dis-
tinguishing Signs, were remarkable for their small size,
and for that particular something which old>&shioned
dancing masters used to call flic-flac^ a something that
put you in mind of MUe. Mars's agreeable delivery,
for all the Muses are sisters, and dancer and poet
alike have their feet upon the earth. Isaure's feet spoke

The Firm of Nucingen 177

lightly and swiftly with a clearness and precision which
augured well for the things of the heart. ^^Elle a du
flic-flac^^ was old Marcel's highest word of praise, and
old Marcel was the dancing master that deserved the
epithet of " the Great.'* People used to say " the Great
Marcel,** as they said "Frederick the Great," and in
Frederick's time.

^ Did Marcel compose any ballets ? ' inquired Finot.

* Yes, something in the style of Les ^atre J^lements
and V Europe galanU^

* What times they were, when great nobles dressed
the dancers ! ' said Finot.

^ Improper ! ' said Bixiou. ^ Isaure did not raise her-
self on the tips of her toes, she stayed on the ground, she
swayed in the dance without jerks, and neither more nor
less voluptuously than a young lady ought to do. There
was a profound philosophy in Marcel's remark that every
age and condition had its dance ; a married woman
should not dance like a young girl, nor a little jacka-
napes like a capitalist, nor a soldier like a page ; he even
went so far as to say that the in&ntry ought not to
dance like the cavalry, and from this point he proceeded
to classify the world at large. All these fine distinctions
seem very far away.'

* Ah ! said Blondet, * you have set your finger on a
great calamity. If Marcel had been properly understood,
there would have been no French Revolution.'

* It had been Godefroid's privilege to run over Europe,'
resumed Bixiou, ^ nor had he neglected his opportunities
of making a thorough comparative study of European
dancing. Perhaps but for profound diligence in the
pursuit of what is usually held to be useless knowledge,
he would never have fallen in love with this young lady ;
as it was, out of the three hundred guests that crowded
the handsome rooms in the Rue Saint-Lazare, he alone
comprehended the unpublished romance revealed by a
garrulous quadrille. People certainly noticed Isaure

M

178 The Firm of Nucingen

d*Aldrigger's dancing ; but in this present century the
cry is, ^^ Skim lightly over the surface, do not lean your
weight on it**; so one said (he was a notary^ clerk).
^ There is a girl that dances uncommonly well ; another
(a lady in a turban), ^^ There is a young lady that dances
enchanting] V ; " and a third (a woman of thirty), ^Tbat
little thing is not dancing badly/' — But to return to the
great Marcel, let us parody his best known saying with,
" How much there is in an avanUdeux,^* '

^ And let us get on a little faster,' said Blondet ; ^you
are maundering/

^ Isaure,' continued Bixiou, looking askance at Blondet,
^ wore a simple white crepe dress with green ribbons $
she had a camellia in her hair, a camellia at her waist^
another camellia at her skirt-hem, and a camellia—'

* Come, now ! here come Sancho's three hundred goats.'
' Therein lies all literature, dear boy. Clarissa is a

masterpiece, there are fourteen volumes of her, and the
most wooden-headed playwright would give you the
whole of Clarissa in a single act. So long as I amuse
you, what have you to complain of? That costume
was positively lovely. Don't you like camellias ?
Would you rather have dahlias? No? Very good,
chestnuts then, here 's for you.' (And probably Bixiou
flung a chestnut across the table, for we heard something
drop on a plate.)

^ I was wrong, I acknowledge it. Go on,' said Blondet.

* I resume. " Pretty enough to marry, isn't she ? **
said Rastignac, coming up to Godefroid de Beaudenord,
and indicating the little one with the spotless white
camellias, every petal intact.

'Rastignac bein^ an intimate friend, Godefroid answered
in a low voice, ^' Well, so I was thinking. I was saying to
myself that instead of enjoying my happiness with fear and
trembling at every moment ; instead of taking a world
of trouble to whisper a word in an inattentive ear, of
looking over the house at the Italiens to see if some one

The Firm of Nucingcn 179

wears a red flower or a white in her hair, or watching
along the Corso for a gloved hand on a carriage door, as
we used to do at Milan ; instead of snatching a mouthful
of baba like a lackey finishing off a bottle behind a door,
or wearing out one's wits with giving and receiving
letters like a postman — letters that consist not of a mere
couple of tender lines, but expand to five folio volumes
to-day and contract to a couple of sheets to-morrow (a
tiresome practice) ; instead of dragging along over the
ruts and dodging behind hedges — it would be better to
give way to the adorable passion that Jean-Jacques
Kousseau envied, to fall frankly in love with a girl like
Isaure, with a view to making her my wife, if upon
exchange of sentiments our hearts respond to each other ;
to be Werthef , in short, with a happy ending."

' *^ Which is a common weakness," returned Rastignac
without laughing. ^^ Possibly in your place I might
plunge into the unspeakable delights of that ascetic
course ; it possesses the merits of novelty and originality,
and it is not very expensive. Your Monna Lisa is
sweet, but inane as music for the ballet-; I give you
warning."

* Rastignac made this last remark in a way which set
Beaudenord thinking that his friend had his own motives
for disenchanting him ; Beaudenord had not been a dip-
lomatist for nothing ; he fancied that Rastignac wanted
to cut him out. If a man mistakes his vocation, the
false start none the less influences him for the rest of
his life. Godefroid was so evidently smitten with Mile.
Isaure d'Aldrigger, that Rastignac went off to a tall girl
chatting in the card-room. — " Malvina," he said, lower-
ing his voice, "your sister has just netted a fish worth
eighteen thousand francs a year. He has a name, a
manner, and a certain position in the world ; keep an
eye upon them ; be careful to gain Isaure's confidence ;
and if they philander, do not let her send a word to him
unless you have seen it first "

i8o The Firm of Nucingeti

^Towards two o'clock in the morning, Itaure was
standing beside a diminutive Shepherdess of the Alps^
a little woman of forty, coauettish as a Zerlina. A
footman announced that ^* Mme. la Baronne's carriage
stops the way/' and Godefroid forthwith saw his beauti-
ful maiden out of a German sone draw her fantastical
mother into the cloakroom, whither Malvina followed
them ; and (boy that he was) he must needs go to
discover into what pot of preserves the infunt Jo^ had
fallen, and had the pleasure of watching Isaure and
Malvina coaxing that sparkling person, their mamma,
into her pelisse, with all the little tender precautions
required for a night journey in Paris. Of course, the
girls on their side watched Beaudenord out of the comers
of their eyes, as well-taught kittens watch a mouse,
without seeming to see it at alL With a certain satisfiic-
tion Beaudenord noted the bearing, manner, and appear-
ance, of the tall well-gloved Alsacien servant in livery
who brought three pairs of fur-lined overshoes for his
mistresses.

^ Never were two sisters more unlike than Isaure and
Malvina. Malvina the elder was tall and dark-haired,
Isaure was short and fair, and her features were finely and
delicately cut, while her sister's were vigorous and strik-
ing. Isaure was one of those women who reign like
queens through their weakness, such a woman as a
schoolboy would feel it incumbent upon him to protect ;
Malvina was the Andalouse of Musset's poem. As the
sisters stood together, Isaure looked like a miniature
beside a portrait in oils.

^ '^ She is rich ! " exclaimed Godefroid, going back to
Rastignac in the ballroom.

* "Who ? "
*"That young lady."

* ** Oh, Isaure d'Aldrigger ? Why, yes. The mother
is a widow ; Nucingen was once a clerk in her hus-
band's bank at Strasbourg. Do you want to see them

The Firm of Nucingen i8i

again ? Just turn off a compliment for Mme. de
Restaud ; she is giving a ball the day after to-morrow ;
the Baroness d'Aldrigger and her two daughters will be
there. You will have an invitation."

^ For three days Godefroid beheld Isaure in the camera
obscura of his brain — his Isaure with her white camellias
and the little ways she had with her head — saw her as
you still see the bright thing on which you have been
gazing after your eyes are shut, a picture grown some-
what smaller ; a radiant, brightly-coloured vision flashing
out of a vortex of darkness.'

* Bixiou, you are dropping into phenomena, block us
out our pictures,' put in Couture.

* Here you are, gentlemen ! Here is the picture you
ordered ! (from the tones of Bixiou's voice, he evidently
was posing as a waiter.) ^ Finot ! attention, one has to
pull at your mouth as a jarvie pulls at his jade. In
Madame Theodora Marguerite Wilhelmine Adolphus
(of the firm of Adolphus and Company, Mannheim),
relict of the late Baron d'Aldrigger, you might expect
to find a stout, comfortable German, compact and
prudent, with a &ir complexion mellowed to the tint of
the foam on a pot of beer; and as to virtues, rich
in all the patriarchal good qualities that Germany
possesses — in romances, that is to say. Well there
was not a grey hair in the frisky ringlets that she wore
on cither side of her face ; she was still as fresh and as
bris;htly. coloured on the cheek-bone as a Nuremberg
doll; her eyes were lively and bright ; a closely-fitting,
pointed bodice set ofi^ the slenderness of her waist. Her
brow and temples wefe furrowed by a few involuntary
wrinkles which, like Ninon, she would fain have
banished from her head to her heel, but they persisted
in tracing their zigzags in the more conspicuous place.
The outlines of the nose had somewhat fallen away,
and the tip had reddened, and this was the more awk-
ward because it matched the colour on the cheek-bones.

1 82 The Firm of Nucingcn

^ An only daughter and an heiress, spoilt hj her father
and mother, spoilt by her husband and the city of
Strasbourg, spoilt still by two daughters who worshipped
their mother, the Baroness d'Aldngger indulged a taste
tor rose colour, short petticoats, and a knot of ribbon at
the point of the dghtly-fitting corselet bodice. Any
Parisian meeting the Baroness on the boulevard would
Mutle and condemn her outright ; he does not admit any
pica vif extenuating circumstances, like a modern jury
viii 4 case of tracricide. A scoffer is always superficial,
4iid iit cvnaet^uience cruel ; the rascal never thinks of
chrowin^ the proper share of ridicule on society that
ttknitt th< indsTidioi what he is ; for Nature only makes
^ull animals of us, we owe the fool to artificial conditions.'

* The thine that I admire about Biziou is his com-
pleteness,' said Blondet ; ^whenever he is not gibing at
others, he is laughing at himself.'

^ I will be even with you for that, Blondet,' returned
Bixiou in a significant tone. ^If the little Baroness
was giddy, careless, selfish, and incapable in practical
matters, she was not accountable for her sins; the
responsibility is divided between the firm of Adolphus
and Company of Mannheim and Baron d'Aldrigger with
his blind love for his wife. The Baroness was as gentle
as a lamb ; she had a soft heart that was very readily
moved ; unluckily, the emotion never lasted long, but it
was all the more frequently renewed.

* When the Baron died, for instance, the Shepherdess
all but followed him to the tomb, so violent and sincere
was her grief, but — ^next morning there were green peas
at lunch, she was fond of green peas, the delicious green
peas calmed the crisis. Her daughters and her servants
loved her so blindly that the whole household rejoiced
over a circumstance that enabled them to hide the
dolorous spectacle of the funeral from the sorrowing
Baroness. Isaure and Malvina would not allow their
idolised mother to see their tears.

\

The Firm of Nucingen 183

* While the Requiem was chanted, they diverted her
thoughts to the choice of mourning dresses. While the
coiEn was placed in the huge, black and white, wax-
besprinkled catafalque that does duty for some three thou-
sand dead in the course of its career — so I was informed
by a philosophically-minded mute whom I once con-
sulted on the point over a couple of glasses of petit blanc
— while an indifferent choir was bawling the Dies ira^
and a no less indifferent priest mumbling the office for
the dead, do you know what the friends of the departed
were saying as, all dressed in black from head to foot,
they sat or stood in the church ? (Here is the picture
you ordered.) Stay, do you see them ?

*"How much do you suppose old d'Aldrigger will
leave ? '* Desroches asked of Taillefcr. — You remember
Taillefer that gave us the finest orgie ever known not
long before he died ? *

* jBut was Desroches an attorney in those days ? '

^ He was in treaty for a practice in 1822,' said Couture.
* It was a bold thing to do, for he was the son of a poor
clerk who never made more than eighteen hundred
francs a year, and his mother sold stamped paper. But
he worked very hard from 1818 to 1822. He was
Derville's fourth clerk when he came; and in 18 19 he
was second ! '

* Desroches ? '

* Yes. Desroches, like the rest of us, once grovelled
in the poverty of Job. He grew so tired of wearing coats
too tight and sleeves too short for him, that he swallowed
down the law in desperation and had just bought a bare
licence. He was a licensed attorney, without a penny,
or a client, or any friends beyond our set \ and he was
bound to pay interest on the purchase-money and the
cautionary deposit besides.'

^ He used to make me feel as if I had met a tiger
escaped from the Jardin des Plantes,' said Couture.
^ He was lean and red-haired, his eyes were the colour of

184 The Firm of Nucingen

S(uiiibh snuiF, and his complcxioa was harsh. He looked
cold and phlegmatic He was hard upon the widow,
pitiless to the orphan, and a terror to his clerks ; they
were not allowed to waste a minute. Learned, crafty,
double-faced, honey-tongued, nerer flying into a passion,
mncorous in his judicial way.'

^ But there is eoodncss in him,' cried Finot ; ^ he is
devoted to his fhends. The first thing he did was to
take Godeschal, Mariette's brother, as his head-clerk.'

^ At Paris,' said Blondet, ^ there are attorneys of two
shades. There is the honest man attorney ; he abides
within the province of the law, pushes on his cases,
neglects no one, never runs after business, gives his
cUciitH his honest opinion, and makes them compromise
vNi vJoubtiiil points— he is a Denrille, in short. Then
thcfi} is the starveling attorney, to whom anything
Mc^uiN ^^x>d provided that he is sure of expenses | he wiU
>«;(» ti\^t iiK^uncaios fighting, for he sells than, but planets ;
)w will work to make the worse appear the better
vt^UM?^ iiivi tttkc ^vantage of a technical error to win the
uay t04 4 ly^uc^ If one of these feOows tries one of
M^iiiv vJ^iutS cricks QODce too ofisen^ the guild forces
hiiH ti^ $ell ktt coQnccfMm. Desroches^ our ftiend
LH:^roches, understood the fuU resources of a trade
carried on in a beggarly way enoa^ by poor devils ; he
would buy up causes of men who fcuxi to lose the day ;
he plunged into chicanery with a fixci determinarion to
make money by it. He was right; he Jid his business
very honestly. He found influence among men in
public life by getting them out of awkward com[dica-
tions ; there was our dear des Lupeaulx, for instance,
whose position was so deeply compromised. And Des-
rochcs stood in need of influence ; for when he b^an, he
was anything but well looked on at the court, and he
who took so much trouble to rectify the errors of his
clients was often in trouble himself. See now, Bixiou,
to go back to the subject — How came Desroches to be
in the church ? '

The Firm of Nucingen 185

' "D'Aldriggcr is leaving seven or eight hundred thou-
sand francs,'' Taillefer answered, addressing Desroches.

^ ^* Oh, pooh, there is only one man who knows how
much they are worth," put in Werbrust, a friend of the
deceased.

* « Who ? "

^ *^ That fat rogue Nucingen ; he will go as far as
the cemetery ; d'Aldrigger was his master once, and out
of gratitude he put the old man's capital into his busi-
ness."

*"Thc widow will soon feel a great difference."

***What do you mean ? "

*"Wcll, d'Aldrigger was so fond of his wife. Now,
don't laugh, people are looking at us."

* ** Look, here comes du TiTlet j he is very late. The
epistle is just beginning."

* " He will marry the eldest girl in all probability."
*** Is it possible ? " asked Desroches j " why, he is tied
more than ever to Mme. Roguin."

*** Tied — he ? — You do not know him."

* ** Do you know how Nucingen and du Tillet stand ? "
asked Desroches.

*"Like this," said Taillefer; "Nucingen is just the
man to swallow down his old master's capital, and then
to disgorge it.''

* " Ugh ! ugh ! " coughed Werbrust, " these churches
are confoundedly damp ; ugh ! ugh ! What do you
mean by * disgorge it ' ? "

* " Well, Nucingen knows that du Tillet has a lot of
money ; he wants to marry him to Malvina ; but du
Tillet is shy of Nucingen. To a looker-on, the game
is good fun.

* " What ! " exclaimed Werbrust, " is she old enough
to marry ? How quickly we grow old ! "

*" Malvina d'Aldrigger is quite twenty years old, my
dear fellow. Old d'Aldrigger was married in 1800.
He gave some rather fine entertainments in Strasbourg
at the time of his wedding, and afterwards when

ii6 The Finn of Nodngen

Thst was in 1801 at the peace of
.Vaicas^ and here are we in the year 1823, Daddy
W$r:«rusc ' Li those dars ererything was Ossianised ; he
cauoi ins ia.u^cer Malrina. Six years afterwards there
ws» A rxfc ^r chivolnr, Vmrtamt pnar la Syne — a pack of
^<«»s&>e — xnc Ik chri^ened his second daughter Isaure.
Siic s sorencsesi. So there are two daughters to marry."

^*^T^ vcmics will noc have a penny left in ten
v^ars^ rnxe^*^ sata Wcrbmst, speaking to Desroches in a
cco'tv:«icaI race.

* ^'^ T^«« is <r Aluirigger's man-servant, the old fellow
bcLcw-JL^ xwxj Mt the bock of the church ; he has been
suice the two young ladies were children,
i3LbiLe of anything to keep enough together
ibr ^i gga ^? live asco^* said Taillefer.

^ J\f< ir« * ^orom the minor canons.) Dies ilia !

'^^ -^ GoixLiay, Wertnst" (from Tailkfcr), « the Dies
^M ruts OK too much in miod of my poor boy."

^«*^ I s2llI jo too ; it is too damp m here," said Wer-

^^A tew haltpeace, kind gentlemen!** (from the

beai:j:ars at the dccr.^

^ ^^ For the e xp en s e s of the church ! ** (frbm the beadle,
with a rattlini: clatter of the money-box.)

* .fart ^thxn the choristers.)

*** UTiat dhl he die of? '' (from a friend.)
***He bccAe a blood-vessel in the hed" (from an
inqumtive wag).

^** Who is dead ? ** (from a passer-by.)

* ** The President de Montesquieu ! ** (from a relative.)

* The sacristan to the poor, " Get away, all of you ; the
monev foe you has been given to us ; don't ask for any

more.

^Done to the life!' cried Couture. And indeed it
seemed to us that we heard all that went on in the

The Firm of Nucingen 187

church. ' Bixiou imitated everything, even the shuffling
sound of the feet of the men that carried the coffin over
the stone floor.

^ There are poets and romancers and writers that say
many fine things about Parisian manners/ continued
Bixiou, 'but that is what really happens at a funeral.
Ninety-nine out of a hundred that come to pay their^
respects to some poor devil departed, get together and
talk business or pleasure in the middle of the church.
To see some poor little touch of real sorrow, you need
an impossible combination of circumstances. And, after
all, is there such a thing as grief without a thought of
self in it?*

- * Ugh ! * said Blondet. * Nothing is less respected than
death ; is it that there is nothing less respectable ? '

* It is so common ! ' resumed Bixiou. * When the
service was over, Nucingen and du Tillet went to the
graveside. The old man-servant walked ; Nucingen
and du Tillet were put at the head of the procession of
mourning coaches. — '* Goot, mcin goot friend," said
Nucingen as they turned into the boulevard. *' It ees a
goot time to marry Malfina ; you vill be der brodector off
dat boor family vat ees in tears ; you vill haf ein family, a
home off your own ; you vill haf a house ready vur-
nished, und Malfina is truly ein dreashure."

* I seem to hear that old Robert Macaire of a Nucin-
gen himself,' said Finot.

* " A charming girl," said Ferdinand du Tillet in a
cool, unenthusiastic tone,' Bixiou continued.

* Just du Tillet himself summed up in a word ! ' cried
Couture.

*" Those that do not know her may think her plain,"
pursued du Tillet, " but she has character, I admit."

* " Und ein herz, dot is the pest of die pizness, mein
dear poy ; she vould make you an indelligent und defoted
vife. In our beastly pizness, nopody cares to know who
life or dies ; it is a crate plessing gif a mann kann put

cff T^ Firm of Nadngeii

M as vest's harv, Mcin Telvine prought mc
* ailioB. s im know, but I should gladly gif

SO pig a Mf.

""^ I lu ICC caov ji c ukI t ; boot she haf somdings.**
^ ^ Ys^ file xm a anodbcr wkh a great liking for rose-
cjiinuv** sBi£ XII Ti'Iec ; vni with that epigram he cut

' .\;tcr liimer tie Sanaa ie Nndngen informed Wil-
lexmne .^zumous rftar she had barely four hundred
tauusanu t m i cs iexm op i with hbii. The daughter of
.^boinpffia jr Mwmhr'ii i i^ dkvs r c dace d to an income of
^^tnir rnmsmtt Irvres lost herself in arithmetical
fr :3ac Tiumfleit her wtt&.
^ -^ 1 Ure nfturv \aul sex tbooand francs for our
aliiwaocQ^'* s&e ssii oo lialirixB. ^ Why, how did
-^mr 'sc^iisr imi anmef r We skill hare nothing now
^vcn :?«c9i::«^'imr dbBOsni fcancs ; it b destitution !
>>i r sr acj g cmui see me so come down in the
«o«^-«k c vcuia cil iim x Ik were not dead already !
^ovr ^V^Ibemuie ^ mul sile bejvr to cry.

^Mdivina^ puzzled to kiuw bov to comfort her
.noiSKTy represented to her that ske was still young and
protty^ cfaac rose-colour still hfriT her, that she could
continue to go to the Opera and the Boaffbas, where
Mxnc* dc Nucingen had a box. And so with visions of
jcaictiesy dances, music, pretty dresseS|and social success.
Sic Baroness was lulled to sleep and pleasant dreams in
the blue, silk-curtained bed in the charming room next
to the chamber in which Jean Bapdste, Baron d'Ald-
rigger, had breathed his last but two nights ago.

* Here in a few words is the Baron's history. During
his lifetime that worthy Alsacien accumulated about
three millions of francs. In 1800, at the age of thirty-
six, in the apogee of a fortune made during the Revolu-
tion, he made a marriage partly of ambition, partly of
inclination, with the heiress of the family of Adolphus

The Firm of Nucingen 189

of Mannheim. Wilhelmine, being the idol of her
whole family, naturally inherited their wealth after
some ten years. Next, d'Aldrigger's fortune being
doubled, he was transformed into a Baron by His
Majesty, Emperor and King, and forthwith became
a fanatical admirer of the great man to whom he
owed his title. Wherefore, between 1814 and 1815
he ruined himself by a too serious belief in the sun
of Austerlitz. Honest Alsacien as he was, he did not
suspend payment, nor did he give his creditors shares in
doubtful concerns by way of settlement. He paid every-
thing over the counter, and retired from business,
thoroughly deserving Nucingen's comment on his
behaviour — " Honest but stoobid."

^ All claims satisfied, there remained to him five hun-
dred thousand francs and certain receipts for sums
advanced to that Imperial Government, which had
ceased to exist. ^^ See vat komms of too much pelief in
Nappolion," said he, when he had realised all his
capital.

^ When you have been one of the leading men in a
place, how are you to remain in it when your estate
has dwindled ? D'Aldrigger, like all ruined provincials,
removed to Paris, there intrepidly wore the tricolour
braces embroidered with Imperial eagles, and lived
entirely in Bonapartist circles. His capital he handed
over to Nucingen, who gave him eight per cent, upon it,
and took over the loans to the Imperial Government
at a mere sixty per cent, of reduction ; wherefore
d'Aldrigger squeezed Nucingen's hand and said, ^^I
knew dot in you I should find de heart of ein Elzacien."

(Nucingen was paid in full through our friend des
Lupeaulx.) Well fleeced as d'Aldrigger had been, he
still possessed an income of forty-four thousand francs ;
but his mortification was further complicated by the
spleen which lies in wait for the business man so soon as
he retires from business. He set himself, noble heart, to

1^0 The Finn of Nocmgeii

ncrifice himself to hk wife^ now that her fbrtime was
iosc, that fortune of which she had allowed herself to be
despoiled so easilj, after the manner of a girl entirely
ignorant of money matters. Bime. d'Aldrigger accord-
ingly missed not a single pleasure to which she had
been accustomed ; any void caused by the loss of Stras-
bourg acquaintances] was speedily filled, and more than
filled, with Paris gaieties. Even then, as now, the
Nucingens lived at the higher end of financial society,
and the Baron de Nucingen made it a point of honour
CO treat the honest banker well. His disinterested virtue
looked well in the Nucingen salon.

^ Every winter dipped into d' Aldrigger's principal, but
he did not venture to remonstrate with his pearl of a
Wilhelmine. His was the most ingenious unintelligent
tenderness in the world. A good man, but a stupid one !
^ What will become of them when I am gone ? " he
said, as he lay dying ; and when he was left alone for
a moment with Wirth, his old man-servant, he struggled
for breath to bid him take care of his mistress and her
two daughters, as if the one reasonable being in the
house were this Alsacien Caleb Balderstone.

^ Three years afterwards, in 1826, Isaure was twenty
years old, and Malvina still unmarried. Malvina had

gone into society, and in course of time discovered for
erself how superficial their friendships were, how
accurately every one was weighed and appraised.
Like most sii'l^ that have been ^^ well brought up,** as
we say, Malvina had no idea of the mechanism of life,
of the importance of money, of the difficulty of obtain-
ing it, of the prices of things. And so, for six years,
every lesson that she had learned had been a painful one
for her.

^ D'Aldrigger's four hundred thousand francs were
carried to the credit of the Baroness's account with the
firm of Nucingen (she was her husband's creditor for
twelve hundred thousand francs under her marriage

The Firm of Nucingcn 191

settlement), and when in any difficulty the Shepherdess
of the Alps dipped into her capital as though it were
inexhaustible.

^ When our pigeon first advanced towards his dove,
Nucingen, knowing the Baroness's character, must have
spoken plainly to Malvina on the financial position. At
that time three hundred thousand francs were left ; the
income of twenty-four thousand francs was reduced to
eighteen thousand. Wirth had kept up this state of
things for three years! After that confidential inter-
view, Malvina put down the carriage, sold the horses,
and dismissed the coachman, without her mother's
knowledge. The furniture, now ten years old, could
not be renewed, but it all faded together, and for those
that like harmony the effect was not half bad. The
Baroness herself, that so well-preserved flower, began to
look like the last solitary frost-touched rose on a
November bush. I myself watched the slow decline
of luxury by half-tones and semitones ! Frightful, upon
my honour ! It was my last trouble of the kind ; after-
wards I said to myself, ^^It is silly to care so much
about other people." But while I was in the civil
service, I was fool enough to take a personal interest
in the houses where I dined ; I used to stand up for
them ; I would say no ill of them myself; I — oh ! I was
a child.

*Well, when the ci-devant pearl's daughter put the
state of the case before her, " Oh, my poor children,"
cried she, ^^ who will make my dresses now ? I cannot
afford new bonnets ; I cannot see visitors here nor go
out." — Now by what token do you know that a man is
in love?* said Bixiou, interrupting himself. 'The
question is, whether Beaudenord was genuinely in love
with the fair-haired girl.'

' He neglects his interests,' said Couture.

' He changes his shirt three times a day,' from Finot.

* There is another question to settle first,' opined

i(f2 The Firm of Nucingen

Blondet ) * a man of more tbiui ordinary^ ability, caA hc^
and ought he, to fall in love I *

' My friendf,* resumed Bixiou, with a fentimental air,
' there i% a kind of nun who, when he feelf that be if in
peril of falling in love, will «nap hf« iingeri or fling awajr
iiif c:i^ar (a« the cian; mav be) with a ** Hoob I there are
other women in the world.** Beware of that man for a
dangerous reptile. Still, the Government may employ
that citizen somewhere in the Foreign i)thc€. Blondet^
I call your attention to the fact that this (iodefroid bad
thrown up diplomacy/

^ Welly he was alisfjrbed,' said Blondet. ^Love gives
the fr>ol his one chance of growing great.*

* Blondet, Blondet, how is it that we are so poor t *
cried Jiixiou.

' And why is Kinot vi rich ?* returned Blondet* *I
will tell you how it is ; there, my s^in, we understand
ea«:h other. 0>me, here is Finot filling up my efawi at
if J had carried in his firewood. At the end of dinner
one ought to sip one's wine slowly. — Well t *

^Thou hast said. The absorbed G^xlefroid became
fully accjuainted with the family- the tall Malvina, the
frivolous Jtaroness, and the litf Ic lady of the dance. He
l>ecamc a servant after the most conscientious and
restricted fashion. He was not scared away by the
cadaverous remains of opulence; not he! by degrees
he became ac<:ustomed to the threadbare condition of
things. It never struck the young man that the green
silk damask and white ornaments in the drawing-room
were shabby, s|iotted, and old-fashioned, and that the
Totnii needed refurnishing. The curtains, the tea-table,
the knick-knacks on the chimney-piece, the rcKoco chan-
delier, the Kastcrn car^nrt with the pile worn dc/wn to
the thread, the pianoforte, the little flowered china cupi.
the fringed serviettes %i> full of holes that they looked
like o[>en work in the S|>anish fashion, the green sitfing-
nnmi with the Baroness's blue bedroom ixryond it,— -it

Tie F:rrr. ;< ■:.„,„,„.

X WBiL. Xn:Z - SL:- ^fSm

1 94 The Firm of Nucingen

you with the waspish solicitude of excessive affection
that must know all things and rule all things '

^This comes home,' said Blondet, ^but, my dear
fellow, this is not telling a story, this is blague '

^ Blondet, if you were not tipsy, I should really feel
hurt ! He is the one serious literary character among
us ; for his benefit, I honour you by treating you like
men of taste, I am distilling my tale for you, and now he
criticises me ! There is no greater proof of intellectual
sterility, my friends, than the piling up of facts. Le
Aftsanthropij that supreme comedy, shows us that art
consists in the power of building a palace on a needle's
point. The gist of my idea is in the fairy wand which
can turn the Desert into an Interlaken in ten seconds
(precisely the time required to empty this glass). Would ,
you rather that I fired a story off at you like a cannon-
ball, or a commander-in-chief's report ? We chat and
laugh ; and this journalist, a bibliophobe when sober,
expects me, forsooth, when he is drunk, to teach my
tongue to move at the dull jog-trot of a printed book.'
(Here he affected to weep.) *Woe unto the French
imagination when men ^in would blunt the needle
points of her pleasant humour! Dies irae! Let us
weep for CandiiU. Long live the Kritik of Pure Reason^
La SymboUque^ and the systems in five closely packed
volumes, printed by Germans, who little suspect that the
gist of the matter has been known in Paris since 1 750,
and crystallised in a few trenchant words — the diamonds
of our national thought. Blondet is driving a hearse to
his own suicide ; Blondet, forsooth ! who manufactures
newspaper accounts of the last words of all the great
men that die without saying anything ! '

* Come, get on,' put in Finot.

^ It was my intention to explain to you in what the
happiness of a man consists when he is not a shareholder
(out of compliment to Couture). Well, now, do you
not see at what a price Godefroid secured the greatest

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The Firm of Nucingen 195

happiness of a young man's dream ? He was trying to
understand Isaure, by way of making sure that she should
understand him. Things which comprehend one another
must needs be similar. Infinity and Nothingness, for
instance, are like; everything that lies between the two
is like neither. Nothingness is stupidity ; genius, In-
finity. The lovers wrote each other the stupidest letters
imaginable, putting down various expressions then in
fashion upon bits of scented paper : ^^ Angel ! ^olian
harp ! with thee I shall be complete ! There is a heart
in my man's breast ! Weak woman, poor me ! " all the
latest heart- frippery. It was Godefroid's wont to stay in
a drawing-room for a bare ten minutes ; he talked with-
out any pretension to the women in it, and at those
times they thought him very clever. In short, judge of
his absorption ; Joby, his horses and carriages, became
secondary interests in his life. He was never happy
except in the depths of a snug settee opposite the
Baroness, by the dark-green porphyry chimney-piece,
watching Isaure, taking tea, and chatting with the little
circle of friends that dropped in every evening between
eleven and twelve in the Rue Joubert. You could
play bouillotte there safely. (I always won.) Isaure
sat with one little foot thrust out in its black satin
shoe; Godefroid would gaze and gaze, and stay till
everyone else was gone, and say, "Give me your shoe!"
and Isaure would put her little foot on a chair and take
it off and give it to him, with a glance, one of those
glances that — in short, you understand.

* At length Godefroid discovered a great mystery in
Malvina. Whenever du Tillet knocked at the door, the
live red that coloured Malvina's &ce said ^^ Ferdinand ! "
When the poor girl's eyes fell on that two-footed tiger,
they lighted up like a brazier fanned by a current of air.
When Ferdinand drew her away to the window or a
side table, she betrayed her secret infinite joy. It is a
rare and beautiful thing to see a woman so much in love

196 The Firm of Nucingen

that she loses her cunning to be Strang^ and you can
read her heart ; as rare (dear me 1) in Paris as tne Sina;-
ing Flower in the Indies. But m spite of a friendship
dating from the d'Aldrieeers' first appearance at the
Nucingens', Ferdinand did not marrv Malvina. Our
ferocious friend was not apparently jealous of Desroches,
who paid assiduous court to the young lady ; Desroches
wanted to pay off the rest of the purchase-monev due for
his connection ; Malvina could not well have lest than
fifty thousand crowns, he thought, and so the lawyer
was fain to play the lover. Malvina, deeplv humiliated
as she was by du Tillct's carelessness, loved nim too well
to shut the door upon him. With her, an enthusiastic,
highly-wrought, sensitive girl, love sometimes got the
better of pride, and pride again overcame wounded love.
Our friend Ferdinand, cool and self-possessed, accepted
her tenderness, and breathed the atmosphere with the
quiet enjoymentof a tiger lickine the blood that dyes his
throat. He would come to make sure of it witn new
proofs ; he never allowed two days to pass without a
visit to the Rue Joubert.

^At that time the rascal possessed something like
eighteen hundred thousand francs ; money must have
weighed very little with him in the question of marriage ;
and he had not merely been proof against Malvina, he
had resisted the Barons de Nucingen and de Rastignac ;
though both of them had set him galloping at the rate of
seventy-five leaeues a day, with outriders, regardless of
expense, through mazes of their cunning devices--4md
with never a clue of thread.

^ Godefroid could not refrain from saying a word to
his future sister-in-law as to her ridiculous position
between a banker and an attorney.

* ^^ You mean to read me a lecture on the subject of
Ferdinand," she said frankly, ^*to know the secret
between us. Dear Godefroid, never mention this ag»in.
Ferdinand's birth, antecedents, and fortune count for

The Firm of Nucingcn 197

nothing in this, so you may think it is something extra-
ordinary." A few days afterwards, however, Malvina
took (jodefroid apart to say, ^^I do not think that
Desroches is sincere " (such is the instinct of love) ; '^ he
would like to marry me, and he is paying court to some
tradesman's daughter as well. I should very much like
to know whether I am a second shift, and whether
marriage is a matter of money with him." The fact
was that Desroches, deep as he was, could not make out
du Tillet, and was afraid that he might marry Malvina.
So the fellow had secured his retreat. His position was
intolerable, he was scarcely paying his expenses and
interest on the debt. Women understand nothing of
these things ; for them, love is always a millionaire.'

*But since neither du Tillet nor Desroches married
her, just explain Ferdinand's motive,' said Finot.

* Motive?' repeated Bixiou ; *why, this. General
Rule : A girl that has once given away her slipper, even
if she refused it for ten years, is never married by the
man who '

* Bosh ! ' interrupted Blondet, ^ one reason for loving is
the fact that one has loved. His motive ? Here it is.
General Rule : Do not marry as a sergeant when some
day you may be Duke of Dantzig and Marshal of
France. Now, see what a match du Tillet has made
since then. He married one of the Comte de Granville's
daughters, into one of the oldest families in the French
magistracy.'

* Desroches' mother had a friend, a druggist's wife,'
continued Bixiou. ^ Said druggist had retired with a fat
fortune. These druggist folk have absurdly crude notions ;
by way of giving his daughter a good education, he had
sent her to a boarding-school ! Well, Matifat meant
the girl to marry well, on the strength of two hundred
thousand francs, good hard coin with no scent of drugs
about it.'

^ Florine's Mati&t ? ' asked Blondet.

198 The Firm of Sxxingen

^WcH^rei. Loasteaa*s Mati&t ; oiin» in £Kt. The
Mati&n^ croi then lost to us, hmd gone to Iitc in the
Rue du Chcrchc-Midi, as fkr as mzj be from the Rue
des Lombards^ whefe their money was made For my
o«m pacrty I had cultivated those Matifats. While I
served mv time in the galleys of the law, when I was
CYioped up for eight hours out of the twenty-four with
ninci^mpoops of the first water, I saw queer characters
enough to convince myself that all is not dead-level even
in oSscure places, and that in the flattest inanity you
mav chance upon an angle. Yes, dear boy, such and
such a philistine is to such another as Rafiiel is to
Natoire.

^ Mme. Desroches, the widowed mother, had long ago
planned this marriage for her son, in spite of a tremendous
obstacle which took the shape of one Cochin, Mati&t's
panner^s son^ a roung clerk in the audit department.
M. and Mme. Kfatifiit were of the opinion that an
attorney's position ^^gave some guarantee for a wife's
happiness^** to use their own expression ; and as for
Desroches, he was prepared to fall in with his mother's
view's in case he could do no better for himself. Where-
fore^ he kept up his acquaintance with the druggists in
the Rue du Cherche*Midi.

^ To put another kind of happiness before you, you
should have a description of these shopkeepers, male and
fomale. Tliey rejoiced in the possession of a handsome
ground floor and a strip of garden ; for amusement, they
watched a little squirt of water, no bigger than a corn-
stalk, perpetually rising and falling upon a small round
freestone slab in the middle of a basin some six feet
across ; they would rise early of a morning to see if the
plants in the garden had grown in the night ; they had
nothing to do, they were restless, they dressed for the
sake of dressing, bored themselves at the theatre, and
were for ever going to and fro between Paris and
Luzarches, where they had a country house. I have
dined there.

The Firm of Nucingen 199

^ Once they tried to quiz me, Blondet. I told them
a long-winded story that lasted from nine o'clock till
midnight, one tale inside another. I had just brought
my twenty-ninth personage upon the scene (the news-
papers have plagiarised with their "continued in our
next "), when old Matifat, who as host still held out,
snored like the rest, after blinking for five minutes.
Next day they all complimented me upon the ending of
my tale !

* These tradespeople's society consisted of M. and
Mme. Cochin, Mme. Desroches, and a young Popinot,
still in the drug business, who used to bring them news
of the Rue des Lombards. (You know him, Finot.)
Mme. Matifat loved the arts ; she bought lithographs,
chromo-lithographs, and coloured prints, — all the cheapest
things she could lay her hands on. The Sieur Matifat
amused himself by looking into new business speculations,
investing a little capital now and again for the sake of
the excitement. Florine had cured him of his taste for
the Regency style of thing. One saying of his will give
you some idea of the depths in my Mati&t. ^^ Art thou
going to bed, my nieces ? " he used to say when he wished
them good-night, because (as he explained) he was afraid
of hurting their feelings with the more formal " you."

*The daughter was a girl with no manner at all.
She looked rather like a superior sort of housemaid. She
could get through a sonata, she wrote a pretty English
hand, knew French grammar and orthography — a com-
plete commercial education, in short. She was impatient
enough to be married and leave the paternal roof, find-
ing it as dull at home as a lieutenant finds the night-
watch at sea ; at the same time, it should be said that
her watch lasted through the whole twenty-four hours.
Desroches or Cochin junior, a notary or a lifeguards-
man, or a sham English lord, — any husband would have
suited her. As she so obviously knew nothing of life,
I took pity upon her, I determined to reveal the great

200 The Firm of Nucingen

secret of it. But, pooh ! the Matifats shut their doors
on me. The bourgeois and I shall never understand
each other.*

^ She married General Gouraud,* said Finot.

^ In forty-eight hours, Godefroid de Beaudenord, late
of the diplomatic corps, saw through the Matifats and
their nefarious designs,' resumed Bixiou. ^ Rastignac
happened to be chatting with the frivolous Baroness
when Godefroid came in to give his report to Malvina.
A word here and there reached his ear ; he guessed the
sxatter on foot, more particularly from Malvina's look
Of nnstiction that it was as she had suspected. Then
S^K'^cutc actually stopped on till two o'clock in the
3».Y?::7{. And ret there are those that call him selfish!
iN»4iCKO)kYv£ tcok his departure when the Baroness went

^ As scuxi as Rastignac was left alone with Malvina,
Ik spi^ke in i fatherly, good-humoured fashion. ^^ Dear
child, please to bear in aiind that a poor fellow, heavy
with sleep, has been drinking tea to keep himself awake
till two o'clock in the morning, all for a chance of say-
ing a solenm word of advice to you — Marry f Do
not be too particular ; do not brood over your feelings ;
never mind the sordid schemes of men that have one
foot here and another in the Matifats' house ; do not
stop to think at all : Marry ! — When a girl marries, it
means that the man whom she marries undertakes to
maintain her in a more or less good position in life, and
at any rate her comfort is assured. I know the world.
Girls, mammas, and grandmammas are all of them
hypocrites when they fly off into sentiment over a
question of marriage. Nobody really thinks of any-
thing but a good position. If a mother marries her
daughter well, she sajrs that she has made an excellent
bargain." Here Rastignac unfolded his theory of
marriage, which to his way of thinking is a business
arrangement, with a view to making life tolerable; and

The Firm of Nucingen 201

ended up with, ^^I do not ask to know your secret,
Malvina ; I know it already. Men talk things over
among themselves, just as you women talk after you
leave the dinner-table. This is all I have to say :
Marry. If you do not, remember that I begged you to
marry, here, in this room, this evening ! "

* There was a certain ring in Rastignac's voice which
compelled, not attention, but reflection. There was
something startling in his insistence ; something that
went, as Kastignac meant that it should, to the quick of
Malvina's intelligence. She thought over the counsel
again next day, and vainly asked herself why it had
been given.'

Couture broke in. ^ In all these tops that you have
set spinning, I see nothing at all like the beginnings of
Rastignac's fortune,' said he. ^ You apparently take us
for Matifats multiplied by half-a-dozen bottles of cham-
pagne.'

* We are just coming to it,' returned Bixiou. * You
have followed the course of all the rivulets which make
up that forty thousand livres a year which so many
people envy. By this time Rastignac held the threads
of all these lives in his hand.'

^Desroches, the Mati&ts, Beaudenord, the d'Ald-
riggers, d'Aiglemont ? '

^ Yes, and a hundred others,' assented Bixiou.

* Oh, come now, how ? ' cried Finot. ' I know a few
things, but I cannot see a glimpse of an answer to this
riddle.'

* Blondet has roughly given you the account of Nucin-
gen's first two suspensions of payment ; now for the
third, with full details. — After the peace of 1815,
Nucingen grasped an idea which some of us only fully
understood later, to wit, that capital is a power only
when you are very much richer than other people. In
his own mind, he was jealous of the Rothschilds. He
had five millions of fi'ancs, he wanted ten. He knew a

202 The Firm of Nucingen

way to make thirty millions with ten, while with five
he could onlv nuke fifteen. So he made up his mind to
operate a tnird suspension of payment. About that
time, the great man hit on the idea of indemnifying his
creditors with paper of purely fictitious value and keep-
ing their coin. On the market, a great idea of this
sort is not expressed in precisely this cut-and-dried way.
Such an arrangement consists in giving a lot of grown-up
children a small pie in exchange for a gold piece ; and,
like children of a smaller growth, they prefer the pie to
the eold piece, not suspecting that they might have a
couple of hundred pies for it.*

*What is all this about, Bixiou?' cried Couture.
* Nothing more bona Me. Not a week passes but pies
are offered to the public for a louis. But who compels
the public to take them ? Are they not perfectly free
to make inquiries ? '

^ You would rather have it made compulsory to take
up shares, would you ? ' asked Blondet.

* No,* said Finot. * Where would the talent come
in?*

* Very good for Finot.*

^ Who put him up to it ? * asked Couture.

*The feet was,* continued Bixiou, *that Nucingen
had twice had the luck to present the public (quite
unintentionally) with a pie that turned out to be worth
more than the money he received for it. That unlucky
good luck gave him qualms of conscience. A course of
such luck is fetal to a man in the long run. This time
he meant to make no mistake of this sort ; he waited
ten years for an opportunity of issuing negotiable
securities which should seem on the fece of it to be
worth something, while as a matter of fact *

^ But if you look at banking in that light,* broke in
Couture, ^ no sort of business would be possible. More
than one bona fide banker, backed up by a bona fide
government, has induced the hardest-headed men on

The Firm of Nucingcn 203

'Change to take up stock which was bound to fall
within a given time. You have seen^better than that.
Have you not seen stock created with the concurrence
of a government to pay the interest upon older stock,
so as to keep things going and tide over the difficulty ?
These operations were more or less like Nucingen*s
settlements.'

^The thing may look queer on a small scale/ said
Blondet, * but on a large we call it finance. There are
high-handed proceedings criminal between man and man
that amount to nothing when spread out over any
number of men, much as a drop of prussic acid becomes
harmless in a pail of water. You take a man's life, you
are guillotined. But if, for any political conviction
whatsoever, you take five hundred lives, political crimes
are respected. You take five thousand francs out of my
desk ; to the hulks you go. But with a sop cleverly
pushed into the jaws of a thousand speculators, you
can cram the stock of any bankrupt republic or
monarchy down their throats ; even if the loan has been
floated, as Couture says, to pay the interest on that very
same national debt. Nobody can complain. These are
the real principles of the present Golden Age.'

^ When the stage machinery is so huge,' continued
Bixiou, ^a good many puppets are required. In the
first place, Nucingen had purposely and with his eyes
open invested his five millions in an American invest-
ment, foreseeing that the profits would not come in
until it was too late. The firm of Nucingen de-
liberately emptied its coffers. Any liquidation ought to
be brought about naturally. In deposits belonging to
private individuals and other investments, the firm pos-
sessed about six millions of capital altogether. Among
those private individuals was the Baroness d'Aldrigger
with her three hundred thousand francs, Beaudenord with
four hundred thousand, d'Aiglemont with a million,
Matifot with three hundred thousand, Charles Grandet

The Firm of Nucingen

(vho nairied IfDe. fAobrion) with half a million, and
w ibrth, and so forth.

^ Now, it Nadngcn had himself brought out a joint-
stock companT, with the shares of which he proposed to
inuemninr his creditors after more or less ingenious
nLmoruvring, he might perhaps have been suspected.
He set about it more cunningly than that. He made
»me sMte else put up the machinery that was to play the
?art cr chc Mississippi scheme in Law's system. Nucin-
jcn can make the longest-headed men work out his
schemes ax- him without confiding a word to them ; it
is his peculiar talent. Nucingen just let fall a hint to
iu Tlllet of the pyramidal, triumphant notion of bring-
ing out a joint-stock enterprise with capital sufficient to
paT Yerr high dividends for a time. Tried for the first
nme« in days when noodles with capital were plentiful,
the pian was pretty sure to end in a run upon the shares,
and consecjuently in a profit for the banker that issued
them. You must remember that this happened in 1826.

^ Du Tillet, struck though he was by an idea both
pregtant and ingenious, naturally bethought himself
that if the enterprise &iled, the blame must fall upon
somebody. For which reason, it occurred to him to
put forward a figurehead director in charge of his com-
merctal machinery. At this day you know the secret of
the firm of Claparon and Company, founded by du Tillet,
one of the finest inventions '

^ Yes,* said Blondet, ^ the responsible editor in business
matters^ the instigator, and scapegoat ; but we know
b etter than that nowadays. We put, ^^ Apply at the
offices of the Company, such and such a number, such
and such a street," where the public find a staff of clerks
in green caps, about as pleasing to behold as broker's
men.

^ Nucingen,' pursued Bixiou, ^ had supported the firm
of Charles Claparon and Company with all his credit.
There were markets in which you might safely put

The Firm of Nucingen 205

a million francs' worth of Claparon's paper. So du
Tillet proposed to bring his firm of Claparon to the
fore. So said, so done. In 1825 the shareholder was
still an unsophisticated being. There was no such
thing as cash lying at call. Managing directors did not
pledge themselves not to put their own shares upon the
market ; they kept no deposit with the Bank of France ;
they guaranteed nothing. They did not even conde-
scend to explain to shareholders the exact limits of their
liabilities when they informed them that the directors,
in their goodness, refrained from asking any more than a
thousand, or five hundred, or even two hundred and fifty
francs. It was not given out that the experiment in
are publico was not meant to last for more than seven,
five, or even three years, so that shareholders would not
have long to wait for the catastrophe. It was in the
childhood of the art. Promoters did not even publish
the gigantic prospectuses with which they stimulate
the imagination, and at the same time make demands
for money of all and sundry.*

* That only comes when nobody wishes to part with
money,' said Couture.

* In short, there was no competition in investments,*
continued Bixiou. 'Papier-mache manu&cturers,
cotton printers, zinc-rollers, theatres, and newspapers as
yet did not hurl themselves like hunting dogs upon their
quarry — the expiring shareholder. "Nice things in
shares," as Couture says, put thus artlessly before the
public, and backed up by the opinions of experts (" the
princes of science "), were negotiated sHamefecedly in the
silence and shadow of the Bourse. Lynx-eyed specula-
tors used to execute (financially speaking) the air
Calumny out of The Barber of Seville. They went about
piano J pianoy making known the merits of the concern
through the medium of stock-exchange gossip. They
could only exploit the victim in his own house, on the
Bourse, or in company ; so they reached him by means

2o6 The Firm of Nucmgen

of the skilfully created rumour which grew till it

reached a tmtti of a quotation in four figures '

^ And as we can say anything among ourselves^' said
Couture, * I will go baick to the last subject.'

* Fnu itis orfivrej Monsieur Josse ! * cried Finot.

* Finot will alws^s be classic, constitutional, and ped-
antic,' commented Blondet.

^Yes,' rejoined Couture, on whose account Cerizet
had just been condemned on a criminal charge. ^I
maintain that the new way is infinitely less fraudulent,
less ruinous, more straightforward than the old. Publi-
city means time for reflection and inquiry. If here and
there a shareholder is taken in, he has himself to blame,
nobody sells him a pig in a poke. The manufacturing
industry '

* Ah ! ' exclaimed Bixiou, * here comes industry '

* is a gainer by it,' continued Couture, taking no

notice of the interruption. * Every government that
meddles with commerce and cannot leave it free, sets
about an expensive piece of folly ; State interference ends
in a maximum or a monopoly. To my thinking, few
things can be more in conformity with the principles of
free trade than joint-stock companies. State interference
means that you try to regulate the relations of principal
and interest, which is absurd. In business, genendly
speaking;, the profits are in proportion to the risks.
What does it matter to the State how money is set
circulating, provided that it is always in circulation ?
What does it matter who is rich or who is poor, provided
that there is a constant quantity of rich people to be
taxed ? Joint-stock companies, limited liability com-
panies, every sort of enterprise that pays a dividend, has
been carried on for twenty years in flngland, commer-
cially the first country in the world. Nothing passes
unchallenged there ; the Houses of Parliament hatch
tome twelve hundred laws every session, yet no member
of Parliament has ever yet raised an objection to the
tyttem-

The Firm of Nucingen 207

* A cure for plethora of the strong box. Purely vege-
table remedy,* put in Bixiou, ^ les carottes^ (gamWing
speculation).

* Look here ! ' cried Couture, firing up at this. * You
have ten thousand francs. You invest it in ten shares of
a thousand francs each in ten different enterprises. You
are swindled nine times out of the ten — as a matter of
fact you are not, the public is a match for anybody, but
say that you are swindled, and only one affair turns out
well (by accident ! — oh, granted ! — it was not done on
purpose — there, chaff" away !). Very well, the punter
that has the sense to divide up his stakes in this way
hits on a splendid investment, like those did who took
shares in the Wortschin mines. Gentlemen, let us
admit among ourselves that those who call out are
hypocrites, desperately vexed because they have no good
ideas of their own, and neither power to advertise nor
skill to exploit a business. You will not have long to
wait for proof. In a very short time you will see the
aristocracy, the coiirr, and public men descend into
speculation in serried columns ; you will see that their
claws are longer, their morality more crooked than ours,
while they have not our good points. What a head a
man must have if he has to found a business in times
when the shareholder is as covetous and keen as the
inventor ! What a great magnetiser must he be that
can create a Claparon and hit upon expedients never
tried before ! Do you know the moral of it all ? Our
age is no better than we are ; we live in an era of greed ;
no one troubles himself about the intrinsic value of a
thing if he can only make a profit on it by selling it to
somebody else ; so he passes it on to his neighbour.
The shareholder that thinks he sees a chance of making
money is just as covetous as the founder that offers him
the opportunity of making it.*

* Isn't he fine, our Couture ? Isn't he fine ? * ex-
claimed Bixiou, turning to Blondet. ^ He will ask us

2o8 The Finn of Nudngen

next to etect ftatoes to him as m bene&ctor of the

^It would lead peofJe to conclude that the fool's
monef is the wise man's patrimony by divine right,'
said Blondet.

*' Gentlemen,' cried Couture, * let us have our laugh
out here to make up for all the times when we must
listen gravely to solemn nonsense justifying laws passed
on the spur of the moment.'

* He is right,' said Blondet. ^ What times we live in,
gentlemen ! When the (ire of intelligence appears
among us, it is promptly quenched by haphazard legis-
lation. Almost all our lawgivers come up from little
parishes where they studied human nature through the
medium of the newspapers ; forthwith they shut down
the safety-valve, and when the machinery blows up there
is weeping and gnashing of teeth ! We do nothing
nowadays but pass penal laws and levy taxes. Will you
have the sum of it all ? — ^There is no religion left in the
State ! '

^ Oh, bravo, Blondet ! ' cried Bixiou, ^ thou hast set
thy finger on the weak spot. Meddlesome taxation has
lost us more victories here in France than the vexatious
chances of war. I once spent seven years in the hulks
of a government department, chained with bourgeois
to my bench. There was a clerk in the office, a man
with a head on his shoulders ; he had set his mind upon
making a sweeping reform of the whole fiscal system —
ah, well, we took the conceit out of him nicely.
France might have been too prosperous, you know ;
she might have amused herself by conquering Europe
again ; we acted in the interests of the peace of nations.
I slew Rabourdin with a caricature.' ^

* By reliritm I do not mean cant ; I use the word in
its wide pcHitical sense,' rejoined Blondet.

* Explain your meaning,' said Finot.

^ See Lcs Ew^/s,

The Firm of Nucingen 209

^Here it is,' returned Blondet. ^ There has been a
good deal said about affairs at Lyons; about the Republic
cannonaded in the streets ; well, there was not a word
of truth in it all. The Republic took up the riots, just
as an insurgent snatches up a rifle. The truth is queer
and profound, I can tell you. The Lyons trade is a
soulless trade. They will not weave a yard of silk unless
they have the order and are sure of payment. If orders
fall off, the workmen may starve ; they can scarcely earn
a living, convicts are better off. After the Revolution
of July, the distress reached such a pitch that the Lyons
weavers — the canutSy as they call them — hoisted the flag,
^^ Bread or Death ! ^ a proclamation of a kind which
compels the attention of a government. It was really
brought about by the cost of living at Lyons ; Lyons
must build theatres and become a metropolis, forsooth,
and the octroi duties accordingly were insanely high.
The Republicans got wind of this bread riot, they organ-
ised the canuts in two camps, and fought among them-
selves. Lyons had her Three Days, but order was restored,
and the silk weavers went back to their dens. Hitherto
the canut had been honest ; the silk for his work was
weighed out to him in hanks, and he brought back the
same weight of woven tissue; now he made up his
mind that the silk merchants were oppressing him ;
he put honesty out at the door and rubbed oil on his
fingers. He still brought back weight for weight, but
he sold the silk represented by the oil ; and the French
silk trade has suffered from a plague of ^^ greased silks,"
which might have ruined Lyons and a whole branch of
French commerce. The masters and the government,
instead of removing the causes of the evil, simply drove
it in with a violent external application. They ought
to have sent a clever man to Lyons, one of those men
that are said to have no principle, an Abbe Tcrray ; but
they looked at the affair from a military point of view.
The result of the troubles is a gros de Naples at forty

Tkt Finn of Nudngen

sEk B sold It this daj, I dare say, and
h»rc hit upon some new check
hod of manufacturing without
to have existed in the country
nsc jf :hc g^reat c st cxtixens that France has ever
iin«iw*t mnai ii i iDiicif to keep six thousand weavers in
^vnrc 9TC3CUC orierv Richard Lenoir fed them, and
:ae jq» grimi atc to thickheaded enough to allow him to
^^affis' Tdat tfte ail or the prices of textile fabrics brought
immc ^ :ae StcvooicoQ of 1814. Richard Lenoir is
:"ic ^m ow: jr a j a ticka at that deserves a statue. And
vcc ric iuaKr.^cua xt 00 feot for him has no sub-
^crrbcrv wmie die finad §at General Foy's children
r^oKticit a auIioK 111 w:k. Ljons has drawn her own
ctiQiduaiuiis ;. ite kaovs France, she knows that there is
3a :^^tia leflL The saonr of Richard Lenoir is one
v^ :ausc Mttoiers wftKh Foache coDdenm^

^'So^^Me dhiC d h cLi is a tinge of charlatanism in the
«mv in whtdk coaccras ue p«t beibre the public,' began
OmiDtnt^ c c turwin ig to the charge, *that word clmr-
'm^rhiai ha» coar to be a damaging expression, a
3U«iulc oera^ » it wcre^ btwiia ri^t and wrong ; for
wlhH^ I jsk vQis^ dMS charbtanism begin ? where does
ic tncd .^ whttc is charfataniwp ? do me the kindness of
Mlia^ OK whttc it ts mtt^ Now for a Httle plain speak-
Lrt^ dibe nnst social ingredient. A business which
shixili CMBtst vk going out at night to look for goods
t^ sell lA the doLT wodU be obviously impossible. You
&iKi the iflBtiQict of fixestalKng the market in the very
OKitcfisadtkr. How to ferestaU the market — that is the
one idea of the so-called honest tradesman of the Rue
Saint^Dettb, as of the most bmen-fronted speculator.
If stocks are heavy, sell you must. If sales are slow,
Toa must tickle your customer ; hence the signs of the
Middle Ages, hence the modem prospectus. I do not
see a hairVbrcadth of difference between attracting

The Firm of Nucingen 211

custom and forcing your goods upon the consumer.
It may happen, it is sure to happen, it often happens,
that a shopkeeper gets hold of damaged goods, for the
seller always cheats the buyer. Go and ask the most
upright folk in Paris — the best known men in business,
that is — and they will all triumphantly tell you of dodges
by which they passed off stock which they knew to be
l^d upon the public. The well-known firm of Minard
began by sales of this kind. In the Rue Saint-Denis
they sell nothing but " greased silk " ; it is all that they
can do. The most honest merchants tell you in the
most candid way that ^^you must get out of a bad
bargain as best you can" — a motto for the most un-
scrupulous rascality. Blondet has given you an account
of the Lyons affair, its causes and effects, and I proceed
in my turn to illustrate my theory with an anecdote : —
There was once a woollen weaver, an ambitious man,
burdened with a large family of children by a wife too
much beloved. He put too much faith in the Republic,
laid in a stock of scarlet wool, and manufactured those
red-knitted caps that you may have noticed on the heads
of all the street urchins in Paris. How this came about
I am just going to tell you. The Republic was beaten.
After the Saint-Merri affair the caps were quite unsale-
able. Now, when a weaver finds that beside a wife and
children he has some ten thousand red woollen caps in
the house, and that no hatter will take a single one
of them, notions begin to pass through his head as fast
as if he were a banker racking his brains to get rid of
ten million francs' worth of shares in some dubious
investment. As for this Law of the Faubourg, this
Nucingen of caps, do you know what he did ? He
went to find a pothouse dandy, one of those comic men
that drive police sergeants to despair at open-air dancing
saloons at the barriers ; him he engaged to play the part
of an American captain staying at Meurice's and buy-
ing for the export trade. He was to go to some large

212 The Finn of Nudngen

hatter, who trill had a cap in his shop window, and
* inquire for* ten diovsand red woollen caps. The
hatter, scenting business in the wind, hurried round to
the wocdlen weaver and rushed upon the stock. After
that, no more of the American captain, jou understand,
and great plentj of caps. If you interfere with the
freedom of trade, because firee trade has its drawbacks,
joa might as well rie the hands of jusrice because a
crime somerimes goes unpunished, or blame the bad
organisarion of society because civilisarion produces some
evils. From the caps and the Rue Saint-Denis to joint-
stock compamies and the Bank— draw your own con-
clusions.**

^A crown for Couture!* said Blondet, twisting a
serviette into a wreath for his head. ^ I go further than
that, gentlemen. If there is a defect in the working
hypothesis, what is the cause ? The law ! the whole
system of legislation. The blame rests with the legisla-
ture. The great men of their districts are sent up to us
by the prorinces, crammed with parochial notions of right
and wrong ; and ideas that are indispensable if you want
to keep clear of collisions with justice, are stupid when
they prevent a man from rising to the height at which a
maker of laws ought to abide. Legislation may prohibit
such and such developments of human passions —
gambling, lotteries, the Ninons of the pavement, any-
thing you please — but you cannot extirpate the passions
themselves by any amount of legislation. Abolish
them, you would abolish the society which developes
them, even if it does not produce them. The gambling
passion lurks, for instance, at the bottom of every heart,
be it a girPs heart, a provincial's, a diploniatist's ; every-
body longs to have money without working for it ; you
may hedge the desire about with restrictions, but the
gambling mania immediately breaks out in another form.
You stupidly suppress lotteries, but the cook-maid pilfers
none the less, and puts her ill-gotten gains in the savings

The Firm of Nucingen 213

bank. She gambles with two hundred and fifty franc
stakes insteaa of forty sous ; joint-stock companies and
speculation take the place of the lottery; the gam-
bling goes on without the green cloth, the croupier's
rake is invisible, the cheating planned beforehand. The
gambling houses are closed, the lottery has come to
an end j " and now," cry idiots, " morals have greatly
improved in France," as if, forsooth, they had sup-
pressed the punters. The gambling still goes on, only
the State makes nothing from it now ; and for a tax
paid with pleasure, it has substituted a burdensome duty.
Nor is the number of suicides reduced, for the gambler
never dies, though his victim does.

*I am not speaking now of foreign capital lost to
France,' continued Couture, ^ nor of the Frankfort lot-
teries. The Convention passed a decree of death against
those who hawked foreign lottery-tickets, and procureur-
syndics used to traffick in them. So much for the
sense of our legislator and his drivelling philanthropy.
The encouragement given to savings banks is a piece
of crass political folly. Suppose that things take a
doubtful turn and people lose confidence, the Govern-
ment will find that they have instituted a queue for
money, like the queues outside the bakers' shops. So
many savings banks, so many riots. Three street boys
hoist a flag in some corner or other, and you have a
revolution ready made.

^ But this danger, however great it may be, seems to
me less to be dreaded than the widespread demoralisa-
tion. Savings banks are a means of inoculating the
people, the classes least restrained by education or by
reason from schemes that are tacitly criminal with the
vices bred of self-interest. See what comes of philan-
thropy !

^ A great politician ought to be without a conscience
in abstract questions, or he is a bad steersman for a
nation. An honest politician is a steam-engine with

214 The Firm of Nucingen

feelings, a pilot that would make love at the helm and
let the ship go down. A prime minister who helps him-
self to millions but makes France prosperous and great
is preferable, is he not, to a public servant who ruins his
countrv, even though he is buried at the public expense.
Woula you hesitate between a Richelieu, a Mazarin, or
a Potemkin, each with his hundreds of millions of francs,
and a conscientious Robert Lindet that could make
nothing out of assignats and national property, or one of
the virtuous imbeciles who ruined Louis xvi. ? Go on,
Bixiou.*

^ I will not go into the details of the speculation which
we owe to Nucingen's financial genius. It would be the
more inexpedient because the concern is still in existence
and shares are quoted on the Bourse. The scheme was
so convincing, there was such life in an enterprise sanc-
tioned by royal letters patent, that though the shares issued
at a thousand francs fell to three hundred, they rose to
seven, and will reach par yet, after weathering the stormy
years '27, '30, and '32. The financial crisis of 1827
sent them down ; after the Revolution of July they fell
flat; but there really is something in the affair. Nucingen
simply could not invent a bad speculation. In short, as
several banks of the highest standing have been mixed up
in the affair, it would be unparliamentary to go further
into detail The nominal capital amounted to ten
millions ; the real capital to seven. Three millions
were allotted to the founders and bankers that brought
it out. Everything was done with a view to sending
up the shares two hundred francs during the first six
months by the payment of a sham dividend. Twenty
per cent, on ten millions ! Du Tillet's interest in the
concern amounted to five hundred thousand francs. In
the stock-exchange slang of the day, this share of the
spoils was a ^^sop in the pan." Nucingen, with his
millions made by the aid of a lithographer s stone and a
handful of pink paper, proposed to himself to operate

The Firm of Nucingen 215

certain nice little shares carefully hoarded in his private
office till the time came for putting them on the market.
The shareholder's money floated the concern, and paid
for splendid business premises, so they began operations.
And Nucingen held in reserve founders' shares in
Heaven knows what coal and argentiferous lead-mines,
also in a couple of canals ; the shares had been given
to him for bringing out the concerns. All four were
in working order, well got up and popular, for they
paid good dividends.

^Nucingen might, of course, count on getting the
differences if the shares went up, but this formed no
part of the Baron's schemes ; he left the shares at sea-
level on the market to tempt the fishes.

^ So he had massed his securities as Napoleon massed
his troops, all with a view to suspending payment in the
thick of the approaching crisis of 1826-27 which revolu-
tionised Eiu'opean markets. If Nucingen had had his
Prince of Wagram, he might have said, like Napoleon
from the heights of Santon, ^ Make a careful survey of
the situation ; on such and such a day, at such an
hour funds will be poured in at such a spot." But in
whom could he confide ? Du Tillet had no suspicion of
his own complicity in Nucingen's plot j and the bold
Baron had learned from his previous experiments in sus-
pensions of payment that he must have some man whom
he could trust to act at need as a lever upon the creditor.
Nucingen had never a nephew, he dared not take a con-
fidant; yet he must have a devoted and intelligent
Claparon, a born diplomatist with a good manner, a man
worthy of him, and fit to take office under government.
Such connections are not made in a day nor yet in a
year. By this time Rastignac had been so thoroughly
entangled by Nucingen, that being, like the Prince de la
Paix, equally beloved by the King and Queen of Spain,
he fancied that he (Rastignac) had seciu'ed a very valuable
dupe in Nucingen ! For a long while he had laughed at

2i6 The Firm of Nucingen

a man whose capacities he was unable to estimate;
he ended in a sober, serious, and devout admiration of
Nucingen, owning that Nucingen really had the power
which he thoueht that he himself alone possessed.

^ From Rastignac's introduction to society in Paris, he
had been led to contenm it utterly. From the year 1820
he thought, like the Baron, that honesty was a question
of appearances; he looked upon the world as a mixture of
corruption and rascality of every sort. If he admitted
exceptions, he condemned the mass ; he put no belief in
any virtue — men did right or wrong, as circumstances
decided. His worldly wisdom was the work of a
moment ; he learned his lesson at the summit of Pere
Lachaise one day when he buried a poor, good man
there ; it was his Delphine's £ither,who died deserted by
his daughters and their husbands, a dupe of our society
and of the truest affection. Rastignac then and there
resolved to exploit this world, to wear full dress of virtue,
honesty, and fine manners. He was empanoplied in
selfishness. When the young scion of nobility discovered
that Nucingen wore the same armour, he respected him
much as some knight mounted upon a barb and arrayed
in damascened steel would have respected an adversary
equally well horsed and equipped at a tournament in the
Middle Ages. But for the time he had grown effeminate
amid the delights of Capua. The friendship of snch a
woman as the Baronne de Nucingen is of a kind that
sets a man abjuring egoism in all its forms.

Delphine had been deceived once already ; in her first
venture of the affections she came across a piece of Bir-
mingham manu&cture, in the shape of the late lamented
de Marsay ; and therefore she could not but feel a limit-
less affection for a young provincial with all the provincial's
articles of faith. Her tenderness reacted upon Rastignac.
So by the time that Nucingen had put his wife's friend
into the harness in which the exploiter always gets the
exploited, he had reached the precise juncture when he

Tlie Finn of SmdsBem S17

(the Baion) iiiriftilpi a dnd flBpcHBB ct
To Rasdgaac he mmdi i n d In fwitfiiiw ; Ik pointed
toRasdgnac amcuBof ■Bkmg'icjsntiom.^ ^a
sequence of Us wrianry, he vas njn irii to pSsf the
part of uM tfe il ciair , The Bbcb indged it unsafe to
commtuiicatc the whale of his pat to his oxiji^d
o^boiator. RjsdgDJC qailc lidieved in loijri ii dmg
disaster ; and the Banm afloved hins to htScvc finthcr
that he (Rasdgnac) saved the shop.

^ But niien there are so maoj threads in a dodniy iha^
are apt to be knots. Kasdgnac treasUed far Ddphine's
monejr* He stipulatBd that Driphine nutst be indepen-
dent and her estite separated boat her h«dand*S| swear-
ing to himself that he would rqnj her bjr txdifif^ her
fortune. As, however, Rastignar saod nothing of him-
self Nucingen b^ged him to fake^ in the event of
success^ twentjr-five shares of a thomand fiancs in the
argentiferous lead-mines, and Eogcne took them — not to
offend him ! Nucingen had pot Rastignar up to this
the day before that evenii^ in die Rue Joubert when our
friend counselled Mahrina to marry. A cold shiver nu
through Rasdgnac at the sight of so many happy £oik in
Paris going to and fro unconscious of the impending loss ;
even so a young commander might shiver at the first
sight of an army drawn up before a battle. He saw the
d'Aiglemonts, the d'Aldriggers, and Beaudenord. Poor
litde Isaure and Godefroid playing at love, what were
they but Acis and Galatea under the rock which a
hulkine Polyphemus was about to send down upon
them?^

^ That monkey of a Bixiou has something almost like
talent,' said Blondet.

^ Oh ! so I am not maundering now ? ' asked Bixiou,
enjoying his success as he looked round at his surprised
auditors. — ^ For two months past,' he continued, ^ Code-
fi-oid had given himself up to all the litde pleasures of
preparation for the marriage. At such times men are

21 8 The Firm of Nucingen

like birds building nests in spring ; thev come and go,
pick up their bits of straw, and fly off with them in their
beaks to line the nest that is to hold a brood of young
birds by and by. Isaure's bridegroom had taken a house
in the Rue de la Plancher at a thousand crowns, a com-
fortable little house neither too large nor too small, which
suited them. Every morning he went round to take a
look at the workmen and to superintend the painters.
He had introduced " comfort " (the only good thing in
England)— heating apparatus to maintain an even tem-
perature all over the house ; fresh, soft colours, carefully
chosen furniture, neither too showy nor too much in
the fashion ; spring-blinds fitted to every window inside
and out ; silver plate and new carriages. He had seen to
the stables, coach-house, and harness-room, where Toby
Joby Paddy floundered and fidgeted about like a marmot
let loose, apparently rejoiced to know that there would
be women about the place and a ^^ lady *' 1 This fervent
passion of a man that sets up housekeeping, choosing
clocks, going to visit his betrothed with his pockets full
of patterns of stuffs, consulting her as to the bedroom
furniture, going, coming, and trotting about, for love's
sake, — ^all this, I say, is a spectacle in the highest degree
calculated to rejoice the hearts of honest people, espe-
cially tradespeople. And as nothing pleases folk better
than the marriage of a good-looking young fellow of
seven-and-twenty and a charming girl of nineteen that
dances admirably well, Godefroid in his perplexity over
the corbeille asked Mme. de Nucingen and Rastignac to
breakfast with him and advise him on this all-important
point. He hit likewise on the happy idea of asking his
cousin d'Aiglemont and his wife to meet them, as well
as Mme. de Serizy. Women of the world arc ready
enough to join for once in an improvised breakfast-
party at a bachelor's rooms.^

^ It is their way of playing truant,' put in Blondet«
* Of course they went over the new house,' resumed
Bixiou. ^ Married women relish these little expedi-

The Firm of Nucingen 219

tions as ogres relish warm flesh ; they feel young again
with the young bliss, unspoiled as yet by fruition.
Breakfast was served in Godefroid's sitting-roonni, decked
out like a troop horse for a farewell to bachelor life.
There were dainty little dishes such as wonnien love to
devour, nibble at, and sip of a morning, when they are
usually alarmindy hungry and horribly afraid to confess
to it. It woulcf seem that a woman compromises herself
by admitting that she is hungry. — "Why have you
come alone?" inquired Godefroid when Rastignac
appeared. — "Mme. de Nucingen is out of spirits; I will
tell you all about it,'' answered Rastignac, with the air
of a man whose temper has been tried. — ^^ A quarrel ? "
hazarded Godefroid. — " No." — At four o'clock the
women took flight for the Bois de Boulogne ; Rastignac
stayed in the room and looked out of the window,
fixing his melancholy gaze upon Toby Joby Paddy, who
stood, his arms crossed in Napoleonic fashion, auda-
ciously posted in front of Beaudenord's cab horse. The
child could only control the animal with his shrill little
voice, but the horse was afraid of Joby Toby.

' " Well," began Godefroid, " what is the matter with
you, my dear fellow ? You look gloomy and anxious ;
your gaiety is forced. You are tormented by incom-
plete happiness. It is wretched, and that is a fact, when
one cannot marry the woman one loves at the mayor's
office and the church."

* ** Have you courage to hear what I have to say ? I
wonder whether you will see how much a man must be
attached to a friend if he can be guilty of such a breach
of confidence as this for his sake."

^ Something in Rastignac's voice stung like a lash of a
whip.

* " What ? " asked Godefroid de Beaudenord, turning
pale.

' " I was unhappy over your joy ; I had not the heart
to keep such a secret to myself when I saw all these
preparations, your happiness in bloom."

220 The Firm of Nucingen

^ ^^ Just say it out in three words \ **
*^ Swear to me on your honour that you will be as
silent as the grave

* ^^ As the erave,** repeated Beaudenord.

^^'That if one of your nearest relatives were con-
cerned in this secret, he should not know it."

* ** No."

^ *^ Very welL Nucingen started to-night for Brussels.
He must file his schedule if he cannot arrange a settle-
ment. This very morning Delphine petitioned for the
separation of her estate. You may still save your
fortune."

*^How?" faltered Godefroid; the blood turned to
ice in his veins.

^*' Simply write to the Baron de Nucingen, ante-
dating your letter a fortnight, and instruct him to
invest all your capital in shares." — Rastignac suggested
Claparon and Company, and continued — ^ You have a
fortnight, a month, possibly three months, in which to
realise and make something ; the shares are still going
up "

* ^ But d'Aiglemont, who was here at breakfast with
us, has a million in Nucingen's bank."

« << Look here ; I do not know whether there will be
enough of these shares to cover it ; and besides, I am not
his friend, I cannot betray Nucingen's confidence. You
must not speak to d'Aiglemont. If you say a word, you
must answer to me for the consequences."

^ Godefroid stood stockstill for ten minutes.

' ^^ Do you accept ? Yes or no ! " said the inexorable
Rastignac.

'Godefroid took up the pen, wrote at Rastignac's
dictation, and signed his name.

* " My poor cousin ! " he cried.

' '^ Each for himself," said Rastignac. ** And there is
one more settled ! " he added to himself as he left
Beaudenord.

The Firm of Nucingen 221

< While Rastignac was manoeuvring thus in Paris,
imagine the state of things on the Bourse. A friend of
mine, a provincial^a stupid creature, once asked me as we
came past the Bourse between four and five in the after-
noon what all that crowd of chatterers was doing, what
they could possibly find to sav to each other, and why
they were wandering to and fro when business in public
securities was over for the day. "My friend," said I,
^* they have made their meal, and now they are digesting
it ; while they digest it, they gossip about their neigh-
bours, or there would be no commercial security in
Paris. Concerns are floated here, such and such a man
— Palma, for instance, who is something the same here as
Sinard at the Academie Royale des Sciences — Palma
says, * Let the speculation be made ! * and the specula-
tion is made."'

* What a man that Hebrew is,' put in Blondet ; ^ he has
not had a university education, but a universal education.
And universal does not in his case mean superficial ;
whatever he knows, he knows to the bottom. He has a
genius, an intuitive faculty for business. He is the
oracle of all the lynxes that rule the Paris market ; they
will not touch an investment until Palma has looked
into it. He looks solemn, he listens, ponders, and
reflects ; his interlocutor thinks that after this considera-
tion he has come round his man, till; Palma says, "This
will not do for me." — The most extraordinary thing
about Palma, to my mind, is the fact that he and Wer-
brust were partners for ten years, and there was never
the shadow of a disagreement between them.'

*That is the way with the very strong or the very
weak ; any two between the extremes fall out and lose
no time in making enemies of each other,' said
Couture.

* Nucingen, you see, had neatly and skilfully put a
little bombshell under the colonnades of the Bourse, and
towards four o'clock in the afternoon it exploded.-—

222 The Firm of Nucingen

*^ Here is something serious ; have you heard the news r "
asked du Tillet,drawing Werbrust into a comer. ^^Here is
Nucingen gone off to Brussels, and his wife petitioning
for the separation of her estate.'

*^^ Are you and he in it together for a liquidation t**
asked Werbrust, smiling.

<"No foolery, Werbrust," said du TiUet. "You
know the holders of his paper. Now, look here. There
is business in it. Shares in this new concern of ours
have gone up twenty per cent, already ; they will go up
to five-and-twenty by the end of the quarter ; you know
why. They are going to pay a splendid dividend."

* " Sly dog," said Werbrust. '* CSct along with you }
you are a devil with lone and sharp claws, and you have
them deep in the butter.

^"Just let me speak, or we shall not have time to
operate. I hit on the idea as soon as I heard the news.
I positively saw Mme. de Nucingen crying ; she is afiraid
for her fortime."

' " Poor little thing ! " said the old Alsacien Jew, with
an ironical expression. ^^ Well ? " he added, as du Tillet
was silent.

< ^^ Well. At my place I have a thousand shares of a
thousand francs in our concern ; Nucingen handed them
over to me to put on the market, do you understand ?
Good. Now let us buy up a million of Nucingen's paper
at a discoimt of ten or twenty per cent., and we shall
make a handsome percentage out of it. We shall be
debtors and creditors both ; confusion will be worked !
But we must set about it carefully, or the holders may
imagine that we are operating in Nucingen's interests.

* Then Werbrust understood. He squeezed du Tillet*8
hand with an expression such as a woman's face wears
when she is playing her neighbour a trick.

'Martin Falleix came up. — "Well, have you heard the
news ? " he asked. " Nucingen has stopped pay-
ment."

The Firm of Nucingen 223

< ^ Pooh,** said Werbmst, ^ pray don't noise it about ;
give those that hold his paper a chance.*'

< ^^ What is the cause of the smash ; do you know ? "
put in Claparon.

^^^You know nothing about it," said du Tillet.
^^ There isn't any smash. Payment will be made in
full. Nucingen will start again ; I shall find him all
the money he wants. I know the causes of the suspen-
sion. He put all his capital into Mexican securities,
and they are sending him metal in return ; old Spanish
cannon cast in such an insane fashion that they melted
down gold and bell-metal and church plate for it, and all
the wreck of the Spanish dominion in the Indies. The
specie is slow in coming, and the dear Baron is hard up.
That is all."

* " It is a fact," said Werbrust ; " I am taking his paper
myself at twenty per cent, discount."

^ The news spread swift as fire in a straw rick. The
most contradictory reports got about. But such con-
fidence was felt in the firm after the two previous
suspensions, that every one stuck to Nucingen's paper.
^^ Palma must lend us a hand," said Werbrust.

^ Now Palma was the Kellers' oracle, and the Kellers
were brimful of Nucingen's paper. A hint from
Palma would be enough. Werbrust arranged with
Palma, and he rang the alarm bell. There was a panic
next day on the Bourse. The Kellers, acting on
Palma's advice, let go Nucingen's paper at ten per cent,
of loss; they set the example on 'Change, for they
were supposed to know very well what they were about.
Taillefer followed up with three hundred thousand francs
at a discount of twenty per cent., and Martin Falleix
with two hundred thousand at fifteen. Gigonnet saw
what was going on. He helped to spread the panic,
with a view to buying up Nucingen's paper himself and
making a commission of two or three per cent, out of
Werbrust.

224 The Firm of Nudngen

^ In a comer of the Bourse he came upon poorMatifiit^
who had three hundred thousand francs in Nudngen'f
bank. Mati&t, ehastlj and haggard, beheld the terrible
Gigonnet, the UU-discounter of his old quarter, coming
up to worry him. He shuddered in spite of himself.

*^^ Things are looking bad. There is a crisis on
hand. Nucingen is compounding with his creditors.
But this does not interest you, D^dj Matiiat ; you are
out of business.'*

* ^^ Oh, well, vou are mistaken, Gigonnet; I am in for
three hundred tnousand francs. I meant to speculate in
Spanish bonds."

^ ^^ Then you have saved your money. Spanish bonds
would have swept everything away ; whereas I am pre-
pared to offer you something like nfty per cent, for your
account with Nucingen.**

^^^I would rather wait for the composition," said
Matifat ; *^ I never knew a banker yet that paid less
than fifty per cent. Ah, if it were only a matter of ten
per cent, of loss ** added the retirea man of drugs.

* ** Well, will you take fifteen ? ** asked Gigonnet.

' << You are very keen about it, it seems to me,** said
Matifiit.

* « Good-night."

« " WiU you take twelve ? **

^ *^ Done,** said Gigonnet

^ Before night two millions had been bought up in
the names of the three chance-united confederates, and
posted by du Tillet to the debit side of Nucingen's
account. Next day they drew their premium.

*The dainty little old Baroness d*Aldrigger was at
breakfast with her two daughters and Godefroid, when
Rastignac came in with a diplomatic air to steer the
conversation on the financial crins. The Baron de
Nucingen felt a lively regard for the d*Aldrigger family;
he was prepared, if things went amiss, to cover tne
Baroness's account with his best securities, to wit, some

The Firm of Nucingen 225

shares in the argentiferous lead-mines, but the application
must come from the lady.

*«Poor Nucingen!*^ said the Baroness. «<What
can have become of him ? "

* ** He is in Belgium. His wife is petitioning for a
separation of her property; but he has gone to see if he
can arrange with some bankers to see him through."

* " Dear me ! That reminds me of my poor husband !
Dear M. de Rastignac, how you must feel this, so attached
as you are to the house ! "

'"If all the indifferent are covered, his personal
friends will be rewarded later on. He will pull through;
he is a clever man."

*"An honest man, above all things,'* said the
Baroness.

* A month later, Nucingen met all his liabilities, with
9i no formalities beyond the letters by which creditors
b signified the investments which they preferred to take

in exchange for their capital ; and with no action on the
part of other banks beyond registering the transfer of
Nucingen's paper for the investments in favour.

•While du TiUet, Werbrust, Claparon, Gigonnet,
and others that thought themselves clever were fetching
in Nucingen's paper from abroad with a premium of one
per cent. — ^for it was still worth their while to exchange
it for securities in a rising market — there was all the
more talk on the Bourse, because there was nothing
now to fear. They babbled over Nucingen ; he was
discussed and judged ; they even slandered him. His
luxurious life, his enterprises! When a man has so
much on his hands, he overreaches himself, and so forth,
and so forth.

* The talk was at its height, when several people were
greatly astonished to receive letters from Geneva, Basel,
Milan, Naples, Genoa, Marseilles, and London, in which
their correspondents, previously advised of the bilure,
informed them that somebody was oflFering one per cent.

P

226 The Firm of Nucingen

for Nucingen's paper I ^ There is something up,^ said
the lynxes of the Bourse.

^ The Court meanwhile had granted the application
for Mme. de Nucingen*s separation as to her estate, and
the question became still more complicated. The news-
papers announced the return of M. le Baron de Nucingen
from a journey to Belgium ; he had been arranging, it
was said, with a well-known Belgian firm to resume the
working of some coal-pits in the Bois de Bossut. The
Baron himself appeared on the Bourse, and never even
took the trouble to contradict the slanders circulating
against him. He scorned to reply through the press;
he simply bought a splendid estate just outside Paris for
two millions of francs. Six weeks afterwards, the
Bordeaux shipping intelligence announced that two
vessels with cargoes of bullion to the amount of seven
millions, consigned to the firm of Nucingen, were lying
in the river.

* Then it was plain to Palma, Werbrust, and du Tillet
that the trick had been played. Nobody else was any
the wiser. The three scholars studied the means by
which the great bubble had been created, saw that it
had been preparing for eleven months, and pronounced
Nucingen the greatest financier in Europe.

^ Rastignac understood nothing of all this, but he had
the four hundred thousand francs which Nucingen had
allowed him to shear from the Parisian sheep, and he
portioned his sisters. D'Aiglemont, at a hint firom his
cousin Beaudenordy besought Rastignac to accept ten
per cent, upon his million if he would undertake to
convert it into shares in a canal which is still to make,
for Nucingen worked things with the Government to
such purpose that the concessionaries find it to their
interest not to finish their scheme. Charles Grandet im-
plored Delphine's lover to use his interest to secure shares
for him in exchange for his cash. And altogether Rastignac
played the part of Law for ten days; he had the prettiest

The Finn of Nocii^eii 227

dacheacs in Fnnoe pn^ing him to ilkit shares to them,
and to-dsf the yoong man rcrj Ukdy has an income of
forty thouand ufTcs, derired in the first instance from
the argentiferoos kad-mincs.'

^ If cYcrj one was better oflF, who can have lost ? '
asked Finot.

^ Hear the condusioii,' rejoined Bixk>u. * The Mar-
quis d'Aiglemont and Bcaudenord (I put them forward
as two examples out of many) kept their alloued shares^
enticed by the so-called dividend that fell due a few
months afterwards. They had another three per cent*
on their capital, they sang Nucingen's praises^ and took
his part at a time when everybody suspected that he was
going bankrupt. Godefroid married his beloved Isaure
and took shares in the mines to the value of a hundred
thousand francs. The Nucingens gave a ball even more
q;>lendid than people expected of them on the occasion of
die wedding; Delphine's present to the bride was a
charming set of rubies. Isaure danced, a happy wife, a
girl no longer. The little Baroness was more than ever
a Shepherdess of the Alps. The ball was at its height
when Malvina, the Andalouse of Musset's poem, hcnird
du Tillet's voice drily advising her to take Desroches.
Desroches, warmed to the right degree by Rastignac and
Nucingen, tried to come to an understanding financially i
but at the first hint of shares in the mines for the bride*s
portion, he broke off and went back to the Matifats in
the Rue du Cherche-Midi, only to find the accursed
canal shares which Gigonnet had foisted on Matifat in
lieu of cash.

< They had not long to wait for the crash. The firm
of Claparon did business on too large a scale, the capital
was locked up, the concern ceased to serve its purposes,
or to pay dividends, though the speculations were sound.
These misfortunes coincided with the events of iSiy*
In 1829 it was too well known that Claparon was a
man of straw set up by the two giants ; he fell from his

228 The Firm of Nucingen

pedestal. Shares that had fetched twelve hundred and
fifty francs fell to four hundred, though intrinsically
they were worth six. Nucingen, knowing their value,
boueht them up at four.

* Meanwhile the little Baroness d'Aldrigger had sold
out of the mines that paid no dividends, and Godefroid
had reinvested the money belonging to his wife and her
mother in Claparon's concern. Debts compelled them
to realise when the shares were at their lowest, so that
of seven hundred thousand francs only two hundred
thousand remained. They made a clearance, and all
that was left was prudently invested in the three per
cents, at seventy-five. Godefroid, the sometime gay and
careless bachelor who had lived without taking thought
all his life long, found himself saddled with a little goose
of a wife totally unfitted to bear adversity (indeed,
before six months were over, he had witnessed the
anserine transformation of his beloved), to say nothing
of a mother-in-law whose mind ran on pretty dresses
while she had not bread to eat. The two families must
live together to live at all. It was only by stirring up
all his considerably chilled interest that Godefroid got a
post in the audit department. His friends? — They were
out of town. His relatives ? — All astonishment and
promises. *^ What ! my dear boy ! Oh ! count upon
me ! Poor fellow ! ^ and Beaudenord was clean for-
gotten fifteen minutes afterwards. He owed his place
to Nucingen and de Vandenesse.

^ And to-day these so estimable and unfortunate people
are living on a third floor (not counting the entre-sol)
in the Rue du Mont Thabor. Malvina, the Adolphus's
pearl of a granddaughter, has not a farthing. She gives
music-lessons, not to be a burden upon her brother-in-law.
You may see a tall, dark, thin, withered woman, like
a mummy escaped from Passalacqua's, about afoot
through the streets of Paris. In 1830 Beaudenord lost
his situation just as his wife presented him with a fourth

The Firm of Nucingen 229

child. A family of eight and two servants ( Wirth and
his wife) and an income of eight thousand livres. And
at this moment the mines are paying so weU, that an
original share of a thousand francs brings in a dividend
of cent, per cent.

Rastignac and Mme. de Nucingen bought the shares
sold by the Baroness and Godefroid. The Revolution
made a peer of France of Nucingen and a Grand Officer
of the Legion of Honour. He has not stopped payment
since 1830, but still I hear that he has something like
seventeen millions. He put faith in the Ordinances of
July, sold out of all his investments, and boldly put his
money into the funds when the three per cents, stood at
forty-five. He persuaded the Tuileries that this was
done out of devotion, and about the same time he and
du Tillet between them swallowed down three millions
belonging to that great scamp Philippe Bridau.

^ Quite lately our Baron was walking along the Rue
de Rivoli on his way to the Bois when he met the
Baroness d'Aldrigger under the colonnade. The little
old lady wore a tiny green bonnet with a rose-coloured
lining, a flowered gown, and a mantilla ; altogether, she
was more than ever the Shepherdess of the Alps. She
could no more be made to understand the causes of her
poverty than the sources of her wealth. As she went
along, leaning upon poor Malvina, that model of heroic
devotion, she seemed to be the young girl and Malvina
the old mother. Wirth followed them, carrying an
umbrella.

* " Dere are beoples whose vordune I vound it imbos-
sible to make," said the Baron, addressing his companion
(M. Cointet, a cabinet minister). ^^Now dot de
baroxysm ofF brincibles haf bassed ofF, chust reinshtate
dot boor Peautenord."

* So Beaudenord went back to his desk, thanks to .
Nucingen's good offices; and the d'Aldriggers extol
Nucingen as a hero of friendship, for he always sends

230 The Firm of Nucingen

the little Shepherdess of the Alps and her daughters
invitations to his balls. No creature whatsoever can be
made to understand that the Baron yonder three times
did his best to plunder the public without breaking the
letter of the law, and enriched people in spite of himself.
No one has a word to say against him. If anybody
should suggest that a bie capitalist often is another word
for a cut-throat, it would be a most egregious calumny.
If stocks rise and fidi, if property improves and depreciates,
the fluctuations of the market are caused by a common
movement, a something in the air, a tide in the affairs of
men subject like other tides to lunar influences. The
great Arago is much to blame for giving us no scien-
tific theory to account for this important phenomenon.
The only outcome of all this is an axiom which I
have never seen anywhere in print '

* And that is ? *

* The debtor is more than a match for the creditor.'

* Oh ! ' said Blondet. * For my own part, all that we
have been saying seems to me to be a paraphrase of the
epigram in which Montesquieu summed up PEsprit
des Lois^

* What ? * said Finot.

* Laws are like spiders' webs; the big flies get through,
while the little ones are caught.'

*Then, what are you for r* asked Finot.

* For absolute government, the only kind of govern-
ment under which enterprises against the spirit of the
law can be put down. Yes. Arbitrary rule is the
salvation of a country when it comes to the support of
justice, for the right of mercy is strictly one-sided. The
king can pardon a fraudulent bankrupt ; he cannot do
anything for the victims. The letter of the law is &tal
to modern society.*

^ Just get that into the electors' heads ! ' said Bixiou.

^ Some one has undertaken to do it.^

'Who?'

Hie Firm of Nucingen 231

^Time. As the Bishop of Leon said, ^Liberty is
ancient, but kingship is eternal"; any nation in its
right mind returns to monarchical government in one
form or another.'

*I say, there was somebody next door,' said Finot,
hearing us rise to go.

* There always is somebody next door,' retorted
Bixiou. But he must have been drunk«

pAftit, November 1857.

FACING CANE

I ONCE used to live in a little street which probably is
not known to you — the Rue de Lesdiguieres. It is a
turning out of the Rue Saint-Antoine, beginning just
opposite a fountain near the Place de la Bastille^ and
ending in the Rue de la Cerisaie. Love of knowledge
stranded me in a garret ; my nights I spent in work, my
days in reading at the Bibhotheque d'Orleans, dose by.
I lived frugally, I had accepted the conditions of the
monastic life, necessary conditions for every worker,
scarcely permitting myself a walk along the Boulevard
Bourdon when the weather was fine. One passion only
had power to draw me from my studies ; and yet, what
was that passion but a study of another kind ? I used to
watch the manners and customs of the Faubourg, its in-
habitants, and their characteristics. As I dressed no
better than a working man, and cared nothing for
appearances, I did not put them on their guard ; I could
join a group and look on while they drove bargains or
wrangled among themselves on their way home from
work. Even then observation had come to be an in-
stinct with me; a Acuity of penetrating to the soul
without neglecting the body; or rather, a power of
grasping external details so thoroughly that they never
detained me for a moment, and at once I passed beyond
and through them. I could enter into the life of the
human creatures whom I watched, just as the dervish in
the Arabian Nights could pass into any soul or body after
pronouncing a certain formula.

232

Facino Gme 233

If I met a working man and his wife in the streets be-
tween eleven o'clock and midnight on their way home
from the Ambigu Comique, I used to amuse myself by
following them from the Boulevard du Pont aux Choux
to the Boulevard Beaumarchais. The good folk would
begin by talking about the play ; then from one thing to
another they would come to their own affairs, and the
mother would walk on and on, heedless of complaints or
question from the little one that dragged at her hand,
while she and her husband reckoned up the wages to be
paid on the morrow, and spent the money in a score of
different wajrs. Then came domestic details, lamentations
over the excessive deamess of potatoes, or the length of
the winter and the high price of block fuel, together
with forcible representations of amounts owing to the
baker, ending in an acrimonious dispute, in the course of
which such couples reveal their characters in picturesque
language. As I listened, I could make their lives mine,
I felt their rags on my back, I walked with their gaping
shoes on my feet; their cravings, their needs, had all
passed into my soul, or my soul had passed into theirs.
It was the dream of a waking man. I waxed hot with
them over the foreman's tyranny, or the bad customers
that made them call again and again for payment.

To come out of my own ways of life, to be another
than myself through a kind of intoxication of the intel-
lectual faculties, and to play this game at will, such was
my recreation. Whence comes the gift ? Is it a kind
of second sight ? Is it one of those powers which when
abused end in madness ? I have never tried to discover
its source ; I possess it, I use it, that is all. But this it
behoves you to know, that in those days I began to
resolve the heterogeneous mass known as the People into
its elements, and to evaluate its good and bad qualities.
Even then I realised the possibilities of my suburb, that
hotbed of revolution in which heroes, inventors, and
practical men of science, rogues and scoundrels, virtues

234 Facino Gme

mnd Ticcs^ were all packed together by poverty, stifled
by necessity, drowned in drink, and consumed by ardent
spirits.

You would not imagine how many adventures, how
many tragedies, lie buried away out of sight in that
Dolorous City ; how much horror and beauty lurks
there. No imagination can reach the Truth, no one
can go down into that city to make discoveries ; for one
must needs descend too low into its depths to see the
wonderful scenes of tragedy or comedy enacted there,
the masterpieces brought forth by chance.

I do not know how it is that I have kept the following
story so long untold. It is one of the curious things that
stop in the bag from which Memory draws out stories at
haphazard, like numbers in a lottery. There are plentv
of tales just as strange and just as well hidden still
left; but some day, you may be sure, their turn will
come.

One day my charwoman, a working man's wife, came
to beg me to honour her sister's wedding with my
presence. If jrou are to realise what this wedding was
like, you must know that I paid mv charwoman, poor
creature, four francs a month ; for which sum she came
every morning to make my bed, clean my shoes, brush
my clothes, sweep the room, and make ready my break-
fast, before going to her day's work of turning the handle
of a machine, at which hard drudgery she earned five-
pence. Her husband, a cabinetmaker, made four francs
a day at his trade ; but as they had three children, it was
all that they could do to gain an honest living. Yet I
have never met with more sterling honesty than in this
man and his wife. For five years after I left the quarter.
Mere Vaillant used to come on my birthday with a
bunch of flowers and some oranges for me — she that had
never a sixpence to put by ! Want had drawn us
together. I never could give her more than a ten-franc

Facino Cane 235

piece, and often I had to borrow the money for the
occasion. This will perhaps explain my promise to go
to the wedding ; I hoped to efface myself in these poor
people's merry-making.

The banquet and the ball were given on a first floor
above a wineshop in the Rue de Charenton. It was a
large room, lighted by oil lamps with tin reflectors. A
row of wooden benches ran round the walls, which were
black with grime to the height of the tables. Here
some eighty persons, all in their Sunday best, tricked out
with ribbons and bunches of flowers, all of them on
pleasure bent, were dancing away with heated visages as
if the world were about to come to an end. Bride and
bridegroom exchanged salutes to the general satis&ction,
amid a chorus of fecetious ^ Oh, ohsT' and ^ Ah, ahs ! '
less really indecent than the furtive glances of young
girls that have been well brought up. There was some-
thing indescribably infectious about the rough, homely
enjoyment in all countenances.

But neither the faces, nor the wedding, nor the
wedding-guests have anything to do with my story.
Simply bear them in mind as the odd setting to it. Try
to realise the scene, the shabby red-painted wineshop, the
smell of wine, the yells of merriment ; try to feel that
YOU are really in the faubourg, among old people, work-
ing men and poor women giving themselves up to a
night's enjoyment.

The band consisted of a fiddle, a clarionet, and a
flageolet from the Blind Asylum. The three wctt paid
seven francs in a lump sum for the night. For the
money, they gave us, not Beethoven certainly, nor yet
Rossini ; they played as they had the will and the tkiU |
and every one in the room (with charming < f
feeling) refrained from finding fault. The m
such a brutal assault on the drum of my ear, t
first glance round the room my eyes fell at
blind trio, and the sight of their uniform

236 Facino Cane

the first to indulgence. As the artists stood in a window
recess, it was difficult to distinguish their faces except at
close quarters, and I kept away at first; but when I
came nearer (I hardly know why) I thought of nothing
else ; the wedding party and the music ceased to exist,
my curiosity was roused to the highest pitch, for my
soul passed into the body of the clarionet player.

The fiddle and the flageolet were neither of them
interesting ; their faces were of the ordinary type among
the blind — earnest, attentive, and ^rave. Not so the
clarionet player ; any artist or philosopher must have
come to a stop at the sight of him.

Picture to yourself a plaster mask of Dante in the red
lamplight, with a forest of silver-white hair above the
brows. Blindness intensified the expression of bitterness
and sorrow in that grand face of his ; the dead eyes were
lighted up, as it were, by a thought within that broke
forth like a burning flame, lit by one sole insatiable desire,
written large in vigorous characters upon an arching brow
scored across with as many lines as an old stone wall.

The old man was playing at random, without the
slightest regard for time or tune. His fingers travelled
mechanically over the worn keys of his instrument ; he
did not trouble himself over a false note now and again
(a canardy in the language of the orchestra), neither did
the dancers, nor, for that matter, did my old Italian's
acolytes ; for I had made up my mind that he must be
an Italian, and an Italian he was. There was something
great, something too of the despot about this old Homer
bearing within him an Odyssey doomed to oblivion. The
greatness was so real that it triumphed over his abject
position ; the despotism so much a part of him, that it
rose above his poverty.

There are violent passions which drive a man to good or
evil, making of him a hero or a convict ; of these there
was not one that had feiled to leave its traces on the
grandly-hewn, lividly Italian face. You trembled lest a

Facino Cane 237

flash of thought should suddenly light up the deep sight-
less hollows under the grizzled brows, as you might fear
to see brigands with torches and poniards in the mouth
of a cavern. You felt that there was a lion in that cage
of flesh, a lion spent with useless raging against iron bars.
The fires of despair had burned themselves out into
ashes, the lava had cooled ; but the tracks of the flames,
the wreckage, and a little smoke remained to bear
witness to the violence of the eruption, the ravages of
the fire. These images crowded up at the sight of the
clarionet player, till the thoughts now grown cold in
his face burned hot within my soul.

The fiddle and the flageolet took a deep interest in bottles
and glasses ; at the end of a country-dance, they hung
their instruments from a button on their reddish-coloured
coats, and stretched out their hands to a little table set in
the window recess to hold their liquor supply. Each
time they did so they held out a full glass to the Italian,
who could not reach it for himself because he sat in front
of the table, and each time the Italian thanked them with
a friendly nod. All their movements were made with
the precision which always amazes you so much at the
Blind Asylum. You could almost think that they can
see. I came nearer to listen ; but when I stood beside
them, they evidently guessed I was not a working man,
and kept themselves to themselves.

* What part of the world do you come from, you that
are playing the clarionet ? *

^ From Venice,' he said, with a trace of Italian accent.

' Have you always been blind, or did it come on
afterwards ? *

^ Afterwards,' he answered quickly. * A cursed guf
serena.*^

* Venice is a fine city; I have always had a fancy to
there.'

The old man's face lighted up, the wrinkles began
work, he was violently excited.

238 Facino Guie

' If I went with you, you would not lose your time,'
be said.

* Don't talk about Venice to our Doge,' put in the
fiddle, *or you will start him oflF, and he has stowed
away a couple of bottles as it is — has the prince ! '

* Come, strike up, Daddy Canard ! ' added the flageo-
let, and the three began to play. But while they
executed the four figures of a square dance, the Vene-
tian was scenting my thoughts ; he guessed the great
interest I felt in him. The dreary, dispirited look died
out of his fixe, some mysterious hope brightened his
features and slid like a blue flame over his wrinkles.
He smiled and wiped his brow, that fearless, terrible
brow of his, and at length grew gay like a man mounted
on his hobby.

* How old are you ? ' I asked.

* Eightv-two.'

* How long have you been blind ? '

* For very nearly fifty years,' he said, and there was
that in his tone which told me that his regret was for
something more than his lost sight, for great power of
which he had been robbed.

* Then why do they call you " the Doge " ? ' I asked.
^Oh, it is a joke. I am a Venetian noble, and I

might have been a doge like any one else.'

* What is your name ? '

* Here^ in Paris, I am Pere Canet,' he said. * It was
the only way of spelling my name on the register. But
in Italy I am Marco Facino Cane, Prince of Varese.*

* What, are you descended from the great condottiere
Facino Cane, whose lands won by the sword were taken
by the Dukes of Milan ? '

^ k vero^ returned he. *His son's life was not safe
under the Visconti ; he fled to Venice, and his name was
inscribed on the Golden Book. And now neither Cane
nor Golden Book are in existence.' His gesture startled
me ; it told of patriotism extinguished and weariness of
life.

Fadno Cane 239

* But if you were once a Venetian senator, you must
have been a wealthy man. How did you lose your
fortune ? '

* In evil days.'

He waved away the glass of wine handed to him by
the flageolet, and bowed his head. He had no heart to
drink. These details were not calculated to extinguish
my curiosity.

As the three ground out the music of the square dance,
I gazed at the old Venetian noble, thinking thoughts
that set a young man's mind aiire at the age of twenty.
I saw Venice and the Adriatic ; I saw her ruin in
the ruin of the &ce before me. I walked to and fro in
that citv, so beloved of her citizens ; I went from the
Rialto Bridge, along the Grand Canal, and from the Riva
degli Schiavoni to the Lido, returning to St. Mark's,
that cathedral so unlike all others in its sublimity. I
looked up at the windows of the Casa Doro, each with
its diflFerent sculptured ornaments ; I saw old palaces
rich in marbles, saw all the wonders which a student
beholds with the more sympathetic eyes because visible
things take their colour of his fancv, and the sight of
realities cannot rob him of the glory of his dreams.
Then I traced back a course of life for this latest scion
of a race of condottieri, tracking down his misfortunes,
looking for the reasons of the deep moral and physical
degra£tion out of which the lately revived sparks of
greatness and nobility shone so much the more brightly.
My ideas, no doubt, were passing through his mind, for
all processes of thought-communications are far more
swift, I think, in blind people, because their blindness
compels them to concentrate their attention. I had not
long to wait for proof that we were in sympathy in this
way. Facino Cane left oflF playing, and came up to me,
^ Let us go out ! ' he said ; his tones thrilled through me
like an electric shock. I gave him my arm, and we went.

Outside in the street he said, ^ Will you take me back

240 Ftcino Cane

to Venice ? will 70U be my guide ? WiU jou pot fiutli
in me i You shall be ncher than ten of the richest
houses in Amsterdam or London, richer than Rotfasdiild ;
in short, you shall have the fiibulous wealth of the
AraUsn fhghts*

The man was mad, I thought ; but in his voice there
was a potent something which I obeyed. I allowed him
to lead, and he went in the direction of the Fosses de h
Bastille, as if he could see ; walking till he reached a
lonely spot down by the river, just where the bridge has
since been built at the junction of the Canal Saint-Mar-
tin and the Seine. Here he sat down on a stone, and
I, sitting opposite to him, saw the old man's hair gleaming
like threads of silver in the moonlight. Tlie stillness
was scarcely troubled by the sound of the hx^oS thunder
of traffic along the boulevards ; the clear night air and
everything about us combined to make a strangely unreal
scene.

* You talk of millions to a young man,' I began, ^and
do you think that he will shrink from enduring any
number of hardships to gain them ? Are you not laugh*
ing at me ? '

*May I die unshriven,' he cried vehemently, * if all
that I am about to tell you is not true. I was one-and-
twenty years old, like you at this moment. I was rich,
I was handsome, and a noble by birth. I began with the
first madness of all — ^with Love. I loved as no one can
love nowaday. I have hidden myself in a chest, at the
risk of a dagger thrust, for nothing more than the pro-
mise of a kiss. To die for Her — ^it seemed to me to be a
whole life in itself. In 1 760 1 fell in love with a lady of the
Vendramin family ; she was eighteen years oId,and married
to a Sagredo, one of the richest senators, a man of thirty,
madlv in love with his wife. My mistress and I were
guiltless as cherubs when the sposo caught us together
talking of love. He was armed, I was not, but he missed
me 'y I sprang upon him and killed him with my two

Facino Cane 241

hands, wringing his neck as if he had been a chicktn.
I wanted Bianca to fly with me ; but she would not*
That is the way with women ! So I went alone. I w»%
condemned to death, and my property was confiscated
and made over to my next-of-kin ; but I had carried off
my diamonds, five of Titian's pictures taken down from
their frames and rolled up, and all my gold.

* I went to Milan, no one molested me, my affair in
nowise interested the State. — One small obiervation
before I go further,' he continued, after a pause, ^ whether
it is true or no that the mother's fimcies at the time of
conception or in the months before birth can influence
her child, this much is certain, my mother durinar her
pregnancy had a passion for gold, and I am the victim ^A
a monomania, of a craving for gold which mmt be
gratified. Gold is so much a necessity of life fr^r me,
that I have never been without it ; I must have gold to
toy with and finger. As a ywuig nan I alwaJ^ wore
jcwdlcry, and carried two or three hundred duckt^ 9Mat
with me wherever I went.'

He drew a couple of gold cou» free: hisi y^^iux »vd
showed them to me as he ipoke.

*I can teil by issdnct when gf^ s ::ear. 3/Ir^ as; I
am, I stop before rhe jeweLers' ihop v-^^;qrc T'^at
nwrion wb the r±z, oi :z/ei I Zf»k to iaaabiitigr v, vopf
with gouL I was nac a chear, I was dieace^t, I rvx^ieA
mjwdL I jcsc all 317 jbrrase. Tkea :ae >»i^a^ r<>
»e Biarra ccxe sore z/rmemd ae iike a ttssopt. I
Stale back zs^ Vaict u:d ixcd &er a^auu Fv ihr
nwnriw I was iiacipy ; she out se » aer iMose »u(
fisd me. I tuM^z rims Jdiciiaaty 90* xxngii snr

e ia Izatj can xei :2ac. He ?ki»ea(
js, axxtf urprse^ jis a yA er :if 'sei,
r vi 3127 lut^s wtoc a x^tir »r xk x
I 2i<i ICC icll JLta vaxrj^K^ isor I

242 Facino Cane

^ That adventure broke my luck. I hare never found
another Bianca; I have known great pleasures; but
among the most celebrated women of the court of Louis
XV. I never found my beloved Venetian's charm, her love,
her great qualities.

^ The Provveditore called his servants, the palace was
surrounded and entered ; I fought for my life that I
might die beneath Bianca's eyes ; Bianca helped me to
kill the Provveditore. Once before she had refused
flight with me ; but after six months of happiness she
wished only to die with me, and received several thrusts.
I was entangled in a great cloak that they flung
over me, carried down to a gondola, and hurried to the
Pozzi dungeons. I was twenty-two years old ; I gripped
the hilt of my broken sword so hard, that they could
only have taken it from me by cutting oflF my hand at
the wrist. A curious chance, or rather the instinct of
self-preservation, led me to hide the fragment of the
blade in a corner of my cell, as if it might still be of use.
They tended me ; none of my wounds were serious. At
two-and-twenty one can recover from anything. I was
to lose my head on the scaflfold. I shammed illness to
gain time. It seemed to me that the canal lay just out-
side my cell. I thought to make mv escape by boring a
hole through the wall and swimming for my life. I
based my hopes on the following reasons.

^ Every time that the gaoler came with my food, there
was light enough to read directions written on the walls —
" Side of the Palace,*' « Side of the Canal," « Side of the
Vaults." At last I saw a design in this, but I did not
trouble myself much about the meaning of it ; the
actual incomplete condition of the Ducal Palace accounted
for it. The longing to regain my freedom gave me
something like genius. Groping about with my fingers^
I spelt out an Arabic inscription on the wsill. The
author of the work informed those to come after him
that he had loosened two stones in the lowest course of

Facino Cane 243

masonry and hollowed out eleven feet beyond under-
ground. As he went on with his excavations, it became
necessary to spread the fragments of stone and mortar
over the floor of his cell. But even if gaolers and in-
quisitors had not felt sure that the structure of the build-
ings was such that no watch was needed below, the
level of the Pozzi dungeons being several steps below the
threshold, it was possible gradually to raise the earthen
floor without exciting the warder's suspicions.

* The tremendous labour had profited nothing — ^nothing
at least to him that began it. The very fact that it was
left unfinished told of the unknown worker's death.
Unless his devoted toil was to be wasted for ever, his
successor must have some knowledge of Arabic, but I
had studied Oriental languages at the Armenian Convent.
A few words written on the back of the stone recorded
the unhappy man's fate ; he had fallen a victim to his
great possessions ; Venice had coveted his wealth and
seized upon it. A whole month went by before I
obtained any result ; but whenever I felt my strength
failing as I worked, I heard the chink of gold, I saw gold
spread before me, I was dazzled by diamonds. — Ah !
wait.

^One night my blunted steel struck on wood. I
whetted the fragment of my blade and cut a hole ; I
crept on my belly like a serpent ; I worked naked and
mole-fashion, my hands in front of me, using the stone
itself to gain a purchase. I was to appear before my
judges in two days' time, I made a final effort, and that
night I bored through the wood and felt that there was
space beyond.

' Judge of my surprise when I applied my eye to the
hole. I was in the ceiling of a vault, heaps of gold were
dimly visible in the &int light. The Doge himself and
one of the Ten stood below ; I could hear their voices and
suflicient of their talk to know that this was the Secret
Treasury of the Republic, full of the gifts of Doges and

244 Facino Cane

reserves of booty called the Tithe of Venice from the
spoils of military expeditions. I was saved !

^ When the gaoler came I proposed that he should help
me to escape and fly with me, and that we should take
with us as much as we could carry. There was no reason
for hesitation ; he agreed. Vessels were about to sail for
the Lrevant. All possible precautions were taken. Bianqi
furthered the schemes which I suggested to my accom-
plice. It was arranged that Bianca should only rejoin us
in Smyrna for fear of exciting suspicion. In a single
night the hole was enlarged, and we dropped down into
the Secret Treasury of Venice.

^ What a night that was ! Four great casks full of
gold stood there. In the outer room silver pieces were
piled in heaps, leaving^ a gangway between by which to
cross the chamber. Banks of silver coins surrounded the
walls to the height of five feet.

* I thought the fi;aoler would go mad. He sang and
laughed and danced and capered among the gold, till I
threatened to strangle him if he made a sound or wasted
time. In his joy he did not notice at first the table
where the diamonds lay. I flung myself upon these, and
deftly filled the pockets of my sailor s jacket and trousers
with the stones. Ah ! Heaven, I did not take the third
of them. Gold ingots lay underneath the table. I per-
suaded my companion to fill as many bags as we could
carry with the gold, and made him understand that this
was our only chance of escaping detection abroad.

* *^ Pearls, rubies, and diamonds might be recognised,"
I told him.

* Covetous though we were, we could not possibly
take more than two thousand livres weight of gola,
which meant six journeys across the prison to the gondola.
The sentinel at the water-gate was bribed with a bag
containing ten livres weight of gold ; and as for the two
gondoliers, they believed they were serving the Republic.
At daybreak we set out.

Facino Cane 245

*Once upoR the open sea, when I thought of that
night, when I recollected all that I had felt, when the
vision of that great hoard arose before my eyes, and I
computed that I had left behind thirty millions in silver,
twenty in gold, and many more in diamonds, pearls, and
rubies — then a sort of madness began to work in me. I
had the gold fever.

*We landed at Smyrna and took ship at once for
France. As we went on board the French vessel, Heaven
^voured me by ridding me of my accomplice. I did not
think at the time of all the possible consequences of this
mishap, and rejoiced not a little. We were so com-
pletely unnerved by all that had happened, that we were
stupia, we said not a word to each other, we waited till it
should be safe to enjoy ourselves at our ease. It was not
wonderful that the rogue's head was dizzy. You shall
see how heavily God has punished me.

* I never knew a quiet moment until I had sold two-
thirds of my diamonds in London or Amsterdam, and
held the value of my gold dust in a negotiable shape.
For five years I hid myself in Madrid, then in 1770 I
came to raris with a Spanish name, and led as brilliant a
life as may be. Then in the midst of my pleasures, as I
enjoyed a fortune of six millions, I was smitten with
blinaness. I do not doubt but that my infirmity was
brought on by my sojourn in the cell and my work in
the stone, if, indeed, my peculiar faculty for ^seeing"
gold was not an abuse of the power of sight which pre-
destined me to lose it. Bianca was dead.

^ At this time I had fallen in love with a woman to
whom I thought to link my fate. I had told her the
secret of my name ; she belonged to a powerful family ;
she was a friend of Mme. du Barry ; I hoped everything
from the favour shown me by Louis xv. ; I trusted in her.
Acting on her advice, I went to England to consult a
famous oculist, and after a stay of several months in
London she deserted me in Hyde Park. She had

24^ Facino Cane

stripped me of all that I had, and left me without
resource. Nor could I make complaint, for to disclose
my name was to lay myself open to the vengeance of my
native city ; I could appeal to no one for aid, I feared
Venice. The woman put spies about me to exploit my
infirmity. I spare you a tale of adventures worthy of Gil
Bias. — Your Revolution followed. For two whole years
that creature kept me at the Bicetre as a lunatic, then she
gained admittance for me at the Blind Asylum ; there was
no help for it, I went. I could not kill her ; Icould not see ;
and I was so poor that I could not pay another arm.

* If only I had taken counsel with my gaoler, Bene-
detto Carpi, before I lost him, I might have known the
exact position of my cell, I might have found my way
back to the Treasury and returned to Venice when
Napoleon crushed the Republic

* Still, blind as I am, let us go back to Venice ! I shall
find the door of my prison, I shall see the gold through
the prison walls, I shall hear it where it lies under the
water ; for the events which brought about the fall of
Venice befell in such a way that the secret of the hoard
must have perished with Bianca's brother, Vendramin, a
doge to whom I looked to make my peace with the Ten.
I sent memorials to the First Consul ; I proposed an
agreement with the Emperor of Austria ; every one sent
me about my business for a lunatic. Come ! we will go
to Venice ; let us set out as beggars, we shall come back
millionaires. We will buy back my estates, and you
shall be my heir ! You shall be Prince of Varese ! *

My head was swimming. For me his confidences
reached the proportions of tragedy -, at the sight of that
white head of his and beyond it the black water in the
trenches of the Bastille lying still as a canal in Venice, I
had no words to answer him. Facino Cane thought, no
doubt, that I judged him, as the rest had done, with a
disdainful pity ; his gesture expressed the whole philo-
sophy of despair.

Facino Cane 247

Perhaps his story had taken him back to happy dajrs
and to Venice. He caught up his clarionet and made
plaintive music, playing a Venetian boat-song with some-
thing of his lost skill, the skill of the young patrician
lover. It was a sort of Super flumina Babybnis. Tears
filled my eyes. Any belated persons walking along the
Boulevard Bourdon must have stood still to listen to an
exile's last prayer, a last cry of regret for a lost name,
mingled with memories of Bianca. But gold soon
gained the upper hand, the &tal passion quenched the
light of youth.

^ I see it always,' he said ; * dreaming or waking, I see
it ; and as I pace to and fro, I pace in the Treasury, and
the diamonds sparkle. I am not as blind as you think ;
gold and diamonds light up my night, the night of the
last Facino Cane, for my title passes to the Memmi.
Mv God ! the murderer's punishment was not long
delayed ! Ave Maria^ and he repeated several prayers
that I did not heed.

* We will go to Venice ! ' I said, when he rose.

* Then I have found a man ! ' he cried, with his face
on fire.

I gave him my arm and went home with him. We
reached the gates of the Blind Asylum just as some of the
wedding guests were returning along the street, shout-
ing at the tops of their voices. He squeezed my hand.

* Shall we start to-morrow ? ' he asked.

* As soon as we can get some money.'

* But we can go on foot. I will beg. I am strong,
and you feel young when you see gold before you.'

Facino Cane died before the winter was out after a
two months' illness. The poor man had taken a chill.

Paris, March 1836.

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